


I See You

by TinySpiney



Series: I See You [7]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Android Elijah Kamski, Android Hank Anderson, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Dialogue, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Has Panic Attacks, Connor gets sick a few times, Depression, Eating Disorders, Gen, Human Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Human CyberLife Tower Connor | RK800-60 (Detroit: Become Human), Human Original Chloe | RT600, Minor Character Death, Protective Hank Anderson, Red Ice (Detroit: Become Human), Role Reversal, Sickfic, Upgraded Connor | RK900 Has ADHD, i'll be sure to add it in the tags just in case if it happens again, its mentioned in chapter two and in chapter seven its kind of described, kind of, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:40:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 68,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23730979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinySpiney/pseuds/TinySpiney
Summary: Now with playlists!!Connor:SIDE A: Connor AndersonHank:SIDE B: Hank
Relationships: Cole Anderson & Connor, Connor & CyberLife Tower Connor | RK800-60, Connor & CyberLife Tower Connor | RK800-60 & Upgraded Connor | RK900, Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900, Hank Anderson & Connor, Hank Anderson & Connor & CyberLife Tower Connor | RK800-60, Hank Anderson & Connor & CyberLife Tower Connor | RK800-60 & Upgraded Connor | RK900, Hank Anderson & CyberLife Tower Connor | RK800-60, Hank Anderson & Jeffrey Fowler, Past Gavin Reed/CyberLife Tower Connor | RK800-60
Series: I See You [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1730275
Comments: 32
Kudos: 60





	1. I See You When You're Down

**Author's Note:**

> The song this is named after, and the chapters titles are from, is called I See You by MISSIO

_November 5th 2038 11:00 PM_

  
  


It wasn’t every day that the prototype detective unit, the RK800 Unit, got blown off by it’s own owner. It was tasked by CyberLife to assist Lieutenant Anderson in the rising deviant cases cropping up all over the city of Detroit. However, the Lieutenant was nowhere to be seen. The RK800 had taken it’s own initiative and began to wander the building. Though it was met with confused personnel and empty rooms. It attempted to ask a detective, though he only scoffed and brushed past it, muttering something about androids taking jobs. Well, it certainly wasn’t here to do such a heinous thing. It was only looking for it’s owner. Yet he was nowhere to be seen. It scrolled through it’s HUD, looking for any of the already provided information about the Lieutenant that could give away his whereabouts. Nothing useful was put into the file. Not that the RK800 was aware of at least. It sighed, a programmed tic that would help it better integrate among humans, and went through a few options as to actions it could take. 

**WAIT ▪ INQUIRE ▪ GO LOOKING ▪ LEAVE**

Asking around the building wouldn’t be such a bad idea, it was the most likely to get the RK800 the information it needed to locate it’s owner. So long as it didn’t ask that one detective again things should go smoothly. It approached a young woman. It tapped her on the shoulder, the polite and human thing to do, and quickly scanned her face. 

**_Police Officer Tina Chen_ **

**_Badge Number: 5195_ **

**_Partner: Robert Lewis_ **

**_Patrol Unit 975_ **

**_Home Address: 917 Laper Street, Detroit_ **

It asked her where it might be able to find Lieutenant Anderson at the current hour, seeing as it had already been waiting for him for exactly two hours and five minutes. She looked the RK800 up and down. She seemed almost unsure of it, perhaps she did not trust androids or was scared of them. It was understandable of course, to be fearful of the unknown and unfamiliar. Officer Chen turned back around to the coffee maker and said nothing for a few seconds. She probably was hoping the RK800 would simply leave. However, this was not the case, it had an urgent mission to accomplish and it intended to succeed in fulfilling it. She sighed and told it to check a few nearby bars. It swiftly nodded and thanked her, turning on it’s heel to walk out of the building. 

It pulled up a few maps of the area detailing where the nearest bars were. The closest one only half a mile away, it was as good a place as any to start. Logically speaking, there was a good chance the Lieutenant was there since he was at work earlier in the day. Since it was so close there would be no need for an automated cab. Besides, the RK800 hadn’t had much time to stretch it’s legs recently. This would be a good time to test how well it’s Human Integration Program was equipped to deal with events happening in real time. There weren’t that many humans out and about at the current time, which was understandable due to the fact it was 10° F. Though the few that the RK800 did encounter didn’t seem to pay it any mind. No matter, going into the bar would be as good a test as any for the program. As it approached the door, it’s hand paused for a fraction of a second. There was a sign saying “No Androids'' to the upper left of the handle. However, it was working with the police, it could afford to bend a few rules to find it’s owner. It grasped the handle in it’s hand and pulled the door open. 

A burst of warm air blew into it’s body and made it’s joints feel a bit easier to move. However, looking around, it didn’t see anyone that fit the Lieutenant’s description. Perhaps it had an outdated photo in the database. If he was in here, then it wouldn’t hurt to go around asking patrons if they had seen him. It seemed to be the best course of action considering the fact this was an Anti-Android establishment. There couldn’t be too much of a fuss, it could impede the investigation. It needed to solve this case and report back to CyberLife with a successful mission. There was no time to waste. It went around the bar, pulling up an image of the Lieutenant in it’s palm and asking if they had seen him recently. Most of the patrons would simply shake their heads, a few would say they hadn’t, and one or two outright refused to answer. It still got it’s answer by scanning them and reading back their criminal records back to them. It seemed he hadn’t been there in the last week according to the bartender. It thanked him, and made it’s way out of the bar. It looked up at the sky as it started to downpour. How unfortunate, the rain chilled it’s systems and made it harder for it’s joints to move properly. Maybe the RK800 did need to get an automated cab, it would make the process much quicker. 

It repeated the process three more times before the cab parked next to the sidewalk of another Anti-Android establishment. Jimmy’s Bar. It was getting late and the RK800 had a job to do. It didn’t hesitate when opening the door, and it didn’t hesitate before walking right in and scanning the patron’s faces. Almost all of them had criminal records. If the RK800 wasn’t already assigned to a case as Lieutenant Anderson’s partner, it would have half a mind to arrest half the people in there. It managed to spot the Lieutenant as he walked out of the bathroom, wiping his hands off on his jeans. Even though it had a processor that rivalled no other, it checked his facial ID and cross referenced it with the file it had on the Lieutenant. 

**_Lieutenant Connor Anderson_ **

**_DOB: August 15th 2009_ **

**_AGE: 29_ **

**_CRIMINAL RECORD: None_ **

**_ADDRESS: 115 Michigan Drive, Detroit_ **

He brushed right past the RK800 without even a glance. Had he not been told he was assigned a partner for the deviancy case? It would have to inform him, and possibly their superiors, of the error in their chain of command. It made no sense for the android to be the one to tell the human what was going on. The humans made the rules and enforced them, androids were simply machines made to accomplish tasks. The RK800’s task was to find the cause of, and then subsequently eliminate, deviancy. Tonight it was to investigate a homicide with Lieutenant Anderson. 

He sat back down and tapped the bar with one hand, Jimmy didn’t even have to look at him to know where he sat as he placed a glass down. Though he didn’t fill it with anything. Instead it was left on the counter as the Lieutenant rummaged around his coat pockets and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a silver lighter. He tapped the package against one of his wrists, then mirrored the action against the other, and opened the box to light one of the cigarettes. He took a few drags from it, blowing the smoke up toward the ceiling. At least he had the decency to keep the smoke away from the other patrons. His shoulders drooped slightly and the RK800 could hear him exhale a shaky sigh. Enough was enough, they had a case to attend to. It stepped up beside him and leaned over slightly, seeing as it was built with quite the towering frame. 

  
  


“Lieutenant Anderson, you’ve been assigned an RK800 unit. I’m the android sent by CyberLife. I looked for you at the station but nobody knew where you were. They said you were probably in a bar nearby. I was lucky to find you at the fifth bar.”

“What do you want?” He didn’t move, he just had his head tilted up toward the ceiling, cigarette stuck between his lips off to one side. 

“You were assigned a case early this evening. A homicide, involving a CyberLife android. In accordance with procedure, the company has allocated a specialized model to assist investigators.” 

“Well I don’t need any assistance.” He smirked and shook his head a few times. Pausing a moment to take another drag of the cigarette and blow the smoke up in the air again. “Specially not from a plastic asshole like you. So just be a good lil’ robot and get the fuck outta here.”

  
  


That...certainly wasn’t what it was expecting. It knew that the Lieutenant would be difficult, one of the pieces of information CyberLife had provided for it was that he was actively against androids. It had anticipated the man to disagree somewhat, yes, but it did not expect him to outright neglect his duties as a member of the Detroit Police Department. Though one quick look at his recent reports and case files may have better prepared the RK800 for the encounter. The RK800 brought up it’s Social Relations program to try and use the best tactic to get the Lieutenant to come with it. 

**REASON ▪ THREATEN ▪ UNDERSTANDING ▪ PERSIST**

  
  


“Listen, I think you should stop smoking and come with me. It’ll make life easier for both of us.” 

  
  


The Lieutenant nodded a few times as he took a particularly deep breath, and then turned so he could slowly blow the smoke into the RK800’s face. He turned back around to dump some ashes into the glass Jimmy had set down on the counter. 

**THREATEN ▪ UNDERSTANDING ▪ PERSIST**

  
  


“I’m sorry, Lieutenant, but I must insist. My instructions stipulate that I have to accompany you.”

“You know where you can stick your instructions?” He smirked and tapped his free hand against the bar, a wheezy chuckle coming from him. It sounded like there was something wrong with his lungs. 

“No...where?” It did know. That was one of it’s responses for a particularly difficult situation it could be put into. However, it knew even in the short time it had known the Lieutenant, this approach would be the most likely to get him to cooperate. 

“Never mind.” 

  
  


He scrunched up his face in disapproval and flicked some of the ashes into the glass again. Apparently that had been the wrong choice, the Social Relations program brought up a notification that showed a negative impact on their relationship. _Shit._ If it was going to get him anywhere, it had to try a different approach. 

**PUT OUT HIS CIGARETTE ▪ LET HIM SMOKE IN CAR ▪ WAIT OUTSIDE**

  
  


“You know what?” It picked up the pack of smokes and pulled out a cigarette, depositing it in it’s inner breast pocket. It even patted the area on the outside for good measure. “How about one for the road? What do you say?”

“See that Jim, wonders of technology. I’m gonna head out.” 

  
  


He took a few more drags until the embers were almost to the butt of the cigarette, blowing the smoke up to the ceiling. He snuffed it out in the glass and patted the bar as he slid off the stool, coughing into his free fist as he went. It definitely sounded like there was something wrong with his lungs. The RK800 scanned him as they walked out of the building. The Lieutenant very clearly had asthma, yet he still smoked despite the severity of it. His lungs were almost ashy looking in the scan, tar buildup. An obvious sign that he had been smoking for quite a few years at that point. While it would be concerning to any living being, the RK800 only saw it as a hindrance. If he were unable to pursue a deviant while the RK800 was unable to for whatever reason, then the consequences from both CyberLife and the DPD would be disastrous. It would practically be damage control at that point. Perhaps it could request a transfer of ownership to someone else. Whoever it ended up with would end up with the deviancy case seeing as it was directly tied to that investigation. 

As they got into the car, the RK800 dialed down it’s audio processors. It fully expected Lieutenant Anderson to blast something like heavy metal just to try and get a reaction out of it. However, it had to dial them back up because it couldn’t hear what was on. It was pleasantly surprised to only hear hard rock instead. As it buckled itself in, there was no way it would break any laws during this investigation unless it absolutely had to, it scanned the music coming through the speakers. _A Little Bit Off_ by _Five Finger Death Punch._ Lieutenant Anderson nodded to himself as he started driving to the scene, seeing as the RK800 had already sent the address to his phone. He squinted at it at first, but ultimately shrugged and pulled out of the parking lot.

Neither of them had spoken during the ride. The only interaction between them both having been the Lieutenant putting his hand out to show he would like to smoke the cigarette the RK800 had put in it’s pocket. They were both lucky it was in it’s inner left breast pocket instead of the right. As it handed the cigarette to him, it noticed just how bony the man was. Only now did the RK800 really see how lanky he was, tall and gaunt almost. Though he wasn’t entirely unattractive by human standards. He had a rather symmetrical face, even eyebrows sitting above dark brown eyes, a dimple in his chin, and freckles splattered across his face. Considering the fact that humans also seemed to quite love bouncy curls for hair, the RK800 wondered why the Lieutenant hadn’t brought someone with him to the bar. Perhaps because he smoked? He did seem to smoke a lot, if the state of his lungs and the stench from his coat were anything to go off of. 

The Lieutenant suddenly slapped his hand down on a device resting on the dashboard, activating a siren and the flashing standard police lights. He cursed to himself at first. Something about “being a forgetful bastard”, before he sighed and ran a hand through his curls. He cranked up the radio’s volume and bobbed his head to the music. _Infinitesimal_ by _Mother Mother_ started blasting through the speakers with so much force the RK800 thought they would rattle right out of the old car. It discovered that despite the fact that he could just skip some of the songs, he didn’t. He turned down the volume instead. Though it also noted how he would grip the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Only when they pulled up to the house, did he release it.

  
  


“You wait here.” The Lieutenant held up a finger and pointed at the RK800 in warning. As he turned to get out of the car, he coughed into his fist and forced more words out. “I won’t be long.”

  
  


**PATIENT ▪ FIRM ▪ DIPLOMATIC**

  
  


“Whatever you say, Lieutenant.” It’s Social Relations program gave it a notification indicating it had made the right choice, their relationship was more positive. 

“Fuckin’-A, whatever I say…”

  
  


**CONFLICTING ORDERS**

**SELECTING PRIORITY**

It sat in the passenger’s seat for a moment longer as it’s code tried to work out what the more important task at hand was. It needed to follow orders, which seemed to make Lieutenant Anderson more inclined to work together with the RK800. However, this homicide involved a CyberLife android. It could have a lead to the deviancy case. It could bend the rules and investigate anyway. That’s what it was built for. 

**FOLLOW LT. ANDERSON**

The RK800 unbuckled itself and got out of the car. The rain was still coming down rather harshly. Almost as if in spite of the weather and the time, a group of people were gathered around an officer standing outside of the police tape. There were reporters and civilians alike, trying to get an answer as to what was going on. The RK800 weaved it’s way through the small crowd and tried to walk to the house. Though a PC200 put it’s hand out to stop it. Could it really not just scan it or connect to inquire as to it’s intentions? Commercial models truly were less than stellar. To the PC200’s credit though, it _was_ only following it’s orders. That was also to be expected. Though what wasn’t expected was the Lieutenant’s loud sigh and the affirmation that the RK800 was “with him” as he said. It walked through the tape without a thought and up to the Lieutenant’s side. 

  
  


“What part of ‘stay in the car’ didn’t you understand?” 

“Your order contradicted my instructions, Lieutenant.” It clasped it’s hands behind it’s back to look like it was still going to comply. Which it was; it just needed to convey that it was still loyal to the Lieutenant. 

“You don’t talk, you don’t touch anything and you stay outta my way, got it?” 

“Got it.”

  
  


Lieutenant Anderson sighed and cracked his knuckles as he walked up to the porch. Another officer greeted him by name and started going over the basic debrief. Which wouldn’t have been needed if the Lieutenant had arrived on time with the RK800. It walked past the two detectives and into the house, pleasantly accepting the fact that the Lieutenant hadn’t tried to stop it. He did, however, outwardly express his displeasure of having to be out so late for work. Despite Officer Collins saying the smell was worse before they opened up the windows, no one seemed to address the sour smell of rotting flesh. Well then, if there were no objections, it was time for the RK800 to do what it was designed for: detective work and analysis of a crime scene. 

  
  
  
  



	2. And Depressed, Just A Mess

_ November 5th 2038 11:37 PM _

  
  


The RK800 meandered around the poor excuse of a house while waiting for the Lieutenant to turn his back so it could work. He went down a small hallway, and the RK800 got started. It kneeled down next to the cluttered table on the opposite wall to the body. On the small coffee table was a bag of red crystals. It didn’t even need to use it’s forensic lab to test it, it could tell what it was just by scanning. Red Ice: Acetone, Lithium, Thirium, Toluene, Hydrochloric acid. Chemical composition: C₁₇H₂₁NO₄. 

**VICTIM USED DRUGS**

It stood up, editing its mission parameters to include reviewing evidence. With that added, it went on it’s way analysing evidence. Kneeling down on the ground, it stuck it’s first two fingers in the blood on the knife. There was enough on them that it was able to gather a sufficient amount of data were it to try and properly analyse the sample. It opened it’s mouth to rest it’s fingertips on the tip of it’s tongue before getting interrupted by the Lieutenant. 

  
  


“Augh, Jesus!” The Lieutenant’s voice came from behind it, causing it to look up with it’s fingers still resting on it’s tongue. “Oh wait, are you just testing that? Fuck, who am I to say no? Go ahead, then.”

  
  


Lieutenant Anderson was quite the character. Self-contradictory and rather brash when he wanted to be apparently. Though he could also be quite understanding and willing to let the RK800 do it’s job. It shook it’s head and sighed through it’s nose. It was no time to be adding on to the file it had on the Lieutenant, that could be done later. It scanned the blood. 

**DRIED BLOOD**

**DNA Analysis: ORTIZ, Carlos**

**Sample date: >19 days**

It moved on to the knife the initial sample was from. There were no fingerprints on it, suggesting android involvement. As it stood up to go investigate further, it heard the Lieutenant mutter to himself about the writing on the wall. It disregarded the statement and analysed a splotch of dried blood on the ground. Also Carlos Ortiz’s blood, also from more than nineteen days prior to the discovery of the body. Likely that it happened while he was attacked. It moved from room to room, checking little nooks and crannies possible evidence may have fallen into. Though they held nothing so it moved on. Up at about it’s shoulder’s height, the RK800 found half a handprint of dried blood on a door frame. There was a struggle. It meandered to the back door that seemed to be unlocked, though likely from the inside. There was no sign of forced entry and the only evidence supporting that anyone had been in the area was Officer Collins’ size ten shoe prints in the dirt. 

**SUSPECT DIDN’T ESCAPE THIS WAY**

It moved on to the kitchen, examining the chair that was turned on it’s side. There were fingerprints belonging to the victim on the edge of it. Further signs of a struggle. Though what had caused the altercation? It stood up and looked around the kitchen further. On the wall was a strip of knives, one was missing from the bunch, the murder weapon was taken from there. On the ground near the table was a discarded aluminium bat. It also had the victim’s fingerprints. Though, curiously enough, there was a dent on the other end. It more or less confirmed android involvement, despite the fact that there was no android to be seen. The victim’s android presumably hadn’t been at the scene when the Landlord had checked, nor was it seen when the DPD had gone to start investigating. If it was, then it would be in custody getting it’s memory probed. The RK800 sighed and stood up to reconstruct the crime. 

Low-polygon outlines showed the victim hitting the deviant with a bat, relentless as he seemingly tried to kill it. Had it really believed it was acting in self-defence? It seemed that the emotional shock caused it to deviate, fighting back when backed up against the counter. It grabbed the knife and proceeded to stab the victim. However, if it truly did believe it was self-defence, then the information didn’t make sense. The RK800 went to go check the body. There were traces of Red Ice on his face, notably around the mouth area, likely suggesting he had been high right before the attack. There were little bits of black foam in his left hand, confirming he was the one who held the bat and swung it. It’s eyes flitted over the body and found the wounds. Twenty-eight stab wounds. 

  
  


“He was stabbed twenty-eight times.”

“Yeah, seems like the killer really had it in for him.”

  
  


Such a violent attack  _ would _ suggest that this was personal. If the deviant genuinely believed it to be in actual danger and fought back, then it wouldn’t be that extensive. This suggested a vendetta. The deviant must have known the victim. The RK800 moved on to the writing above the victim on the wall. A quick analysis determined it to be written by an android, no human could write like that so effortlessly. 

**REGULAR LETTERS**

**CYBERLIFE SANS**

With nothing else to seemingly analyse, the RK800 figured it would report back to Lieutenant Anderson. There wasn’t much else it could do. It sought him out, explaining what it had found. For whatever reason it valued the young Lieutenant’s approval. Every time he had agreed with it or said that what it said made sense, a warm feeling spread in it’s wires. One it didn’t understand and pushed back down so it wouldn’t feel it again. It was an android, a tool, it did not feel. That was absurd. That was like comparatively saying that the ground beneath their feet didn’t like being walked on. The RK800 was a tool. Tools did not have names, tools did not feel, tools did not react in such a way, tools were not alive. Though it couldn’t help the compulsory want to take the case off the Lieutenant's hands. It hadn’t seen it before in the warm light of the bar, but he looked like he hadn’t slept in days. Such a thing would prove to be difficult in later stages of the investigation. 

So when it heard him say he would see what else he could check out before they left, it was quick to say it would investigate further. It located faint traces of thirium, long since evaporated, though still visible to it’s sensors. The trail led to the end of the small hallway Lieutenant Anderson had gone down when they first arrived. Though next to it was a doorway, a bathroom. The curtain to the shower had been opened, and inside was a mess of what appeared to be offerings. The RK800 glanced up at the ceiling panel before deciding it may be beneficial to investigate the makeshift pedestal before making any decisions. It kneeled down in front of it, taking note of the obsessive writing. It looked like it was nonsensical, as far as it knew there was nothing that existed called “Ra9”. The statuette looked like it was made of red clay, though it didn’t quite make sense as to why it was there in the first place. The RK800 moved on to the flowers. They all seemed to be wild flowers that were natural to Detroit. The deviant could have easily gone into the back yard to gather them. 

_ It easily could have gotten them from the back yard.  _

_ There was no forced entry.  _

_ The deviant was still there. _

_ It was in the attic. _

The RK800 grabbed one of the chairs and brought it underneath the ceiling panel. It tested it’s weight on the chair, cursing silently as the chair creaked under it’s weight. There was no way it could let the deviant get away. It quickly scuttled down from the chair and leaned over the Lieutenant. He seemed unphased by the sudden intrusion of his personal space. Or rather, his eyes were unfocused and he looked like he was about to pass out. Damn it, the RK800 didn't have time for this. It told him it was checking the attic, and then proceeded to go and climb up on the chair. Hell, it thought for a fraction of a second that miracles might be real when the chair didn’t break from it’s weight. Gently, it removed the panel. There was no cloud of dust that followed. The last time it was moved had been recent. It heaved itself up into the attic, immediately taking notice of the humanoid shape behind the sheet of plastic. Though when it moved the sheet, it was met with a mannequin. However there was the sound of someone running by. When it rounded the corner of clutter, it was met with the seemingly terrified face of the deviant. That is, if it really was terrified. It was just corrupted data, there was no way it felt emotion. This model was nothing more than a glorified roomba. That was what all androids were. Tools used for tasks. So when it pleaded for it not to say anything, the RK800 shouted to the personnel below that the deviant was there in the attic. The deviant didn’t try to run, it didn’t try to attack, it accepted it’s fate. 

The RK800 grabbed the deviant’s free arm and forced it to follow. Though in a last ditch attempt to escape deactivation, it ran. Or tried to, rather. The RK800’s grip was stronger than the deviant had anticipated. Though when the deviant fell through the hole for the ceiling panel, the RK800 did as well. They both scrambled trying to run through the hall. Lieutenant Anderson stood at the end of the hallway, firearm trained on the two androids. He tossed his handcuffs at the RK800 and commanded it to cuff the deviant and lead it to the squad car waiting outside. 

  
  


\---

  
  


_ November 6th 2038 12:41 AM _

  
  


Of course it would end up cooped up in the observation room with the detective that outright refused to help it find Lieutenant Anderson. Though it wasn’t made with multimillion dollar software for no reason. Perhaps it’s Social Relations program could be of assistance. However, it was threatened every time it tried to speak to him. The RK800 rolled it’s eyes, things could be difficult for the investigation if the other personnel wouldn’t give the damn android the time of day. It decided just to stand and watch the Lieutenant sigh as he stood up from the chair and wordlessly made his way out. When he came back into the observation room, the RK800 scanned his vitals. Though it wasn’t entirely sure why. But it could easily be dismissed as ensuring it’s owner’s sufficient health to make sure the investigation went smoothly. Though it couldn’t help the...weight...in it’s chassis when reading through the scan. 

Lieutenant Anderson was incredibly sleep deprived, was showing signs of a migraine, he had a slight tremor in his hand that was likely the result of low blood sugar, there was a slight wheeze to his every breath, he had sweat beading on his forehead, and had a hand pressed against his abdomen like he was injured. The RK800 stepped forward, saying it would continue to question the android. Detective Reed objected immediately and said they could always try roughing it up a bit instead. But the Lieutenant sat down in the chair and swallowed thickly, leaning forward slightly and saying they didn’t have anything to lose. It took that as it’s cue to leave and get started. As it sat down at the table, it’s audio processors picked up a wet cough from the other side of the glass. Detective Reed sputtered and told the Lieutenant to get out of the room, and after the sound of the door opening was followed by hurried footsteps, he hit the speaker’s button to say that they needed to take five. Well it was more of “get your ass outta there, tin can, your twink isn’t here.” Though since he was it’s superior officer at the moment, it listened. It returned to the observation room to wait for the Lieutenant to come back. The RK800 waited in the chair he previously sat in, and stood up the second he was back in the room. Another scan showed that it was highly likely, and by highly likely that meant there was a 97% chance, that he had just been sick. The RK800 nodded to him and went back into the interrogation room. 

At first it was a game of cat and mouse more than anything else. But once it figured out the best ways to stress the deviant, it became too easy to gather the information. It didn’t pressure it too much. Even the RK800 was wary of the possibility of something bad happening and being interrupted during the investigation. Once it had gotten all of the necessary information out of it, and announced it was done with the interrogation, it almost had a sense of pride. That was absurd. It pushed the feeling down, as it did not feel. Though it’s Social Relations program did give it a notification saying it’s relationship with the Lieutenant had just gone up.

It stepped aside as the others filed into the room, Officer Miller trying to guide the deviant by the arm out of the room. It’s stress levels went up significantly, which could mean anything could happen with the officer’s firearm within it’s reach. The RK800 told him to stop, if it’s stressed it will self-destruct, they needed it activated still. Though nothing helped, the officer tried to get it out as per Detective Reed’s order, but he couldn’t move it. It’s stress levels were too close to critical, the RK800 had to do  _ something. _ It shoved Officer Milled to the side, saying it might hurt him if he kept stressing it out so badly. It said he shouldn’t touch it, it would follow him out if he let it. At the mention of it possibly hurting him if he kept touching it, the RK800’s Social Relations program gave a notification saying that their relationship had improved. It did suppose that humans were always touchy about being injured. It made sense that he would be grateful for the warning. 

What was surprising was that Detective Reed didn’t say anything other than how the RK800 shouldn’t have shoved an officer of the law. He simply brushed past it, knocking their shoulders together and muttering something about “brown-nosing plastic scrap.” The only ones left in the room were itself and Lieutenant Anderson. He chuckled, a soft and warm little thing, and said that it did a good job keeping everyone safe and sound. The way it registered in it’s code was basically the same as when Fowler told him he did well. The wonderful blue blip of a successful mission. 

  
  


“Lieutenant Anderson, may I ask you a personal question?”

“I don’t wanna compare sizes.” It didn’t understand the reference but shook it’s head anyway. The Lieutenant nodded and led it out of the room as he made his way back to his desk to start on the paperwork. “Then go ahead, Robo-Pop.”

“Are you ill?” The Lieutenant’s eyes went wide as he messed with the edge of his sleeve. It was frayed, this was something he did often. “I suggest you go home and rest, Lieutenant. I will accompany you.”

“Woah, woah, hold on a fuckin’ minute.” He narrowed his eyes before rubbing his forehead. “Don’t-- Jesus, don’t scan me. I’m fine, just a migraine.”

“Then I suggest you allow me to take you home.”

“I can get home just fine, thank you.”

“With the shakiness of your legs and hands, you can’t. You are in no condition to drive. You are also sleep deprived, showing signs of low blood sugar, and you’re having trouble breathing. Do you perhaps have an inhal--”

“Fucking fine! If it’ll get you to stop fuckin’ scanning me, fine, take me home.”

  
  


The RK800 put it’s hand out for his car keys. The Lieutenant groaned weakly and gave them to it. As they went back to his car, the android plucked his lighter from his hand, saying his breathing was bad enough as it was. After that they didn’t exchange any other words. Nor did they interact with each other. Though that certainly didn’t stop the RK800 from scanning him again from time to time. His migraine got better with the darkness and the low music playing. However the shakiness in his hands got worse and he was slumped in the passenger’s seat. It left him alone for now. He was falling asleep quickly, likely from a combination of the migraine and the exhaustion. The RK800 made sure to keep his vitals up in the corner of it’s vision. Again, simply because it would ensure the investigation would go smoothly if his health was doing well. Not for whatever weight sat in it’s chassis when it looked at his pale and gaunt face. Despite itself, it found itself thinking he was just some poor kid who was sick. He shouldn’t have come in if he wasn’t feeling well. 

As it parked the car in the driveway and turned to wake him up, the Lieutenant’s vitals spiked. Adrenaline coursed through his veins and his heartbeat picked up, his breathing quickened into short wheezy gasps. He bolted upright in the seat nearly screaming. The RK800...didn’t know what to do. It wasn’t programmed to deal with a human’s nightmares. Though that didn’t stop it from letting out a breathy chuckle and a lopsided grin. 

  
  


“Jeez, is my driving really  _ that _ bad?” The Lieutenant gave his own lopsided smile, though thin lipped it was still there. He exhaled a small laugh and shook his head, putting a hand out for his keys. “Good, maybe I’ll get a job as an Uber if I’m not decommissioned.”

“Uber went out of business eons ago, Robo-Pop.” The RK800 didn’t move. It knew he wanted to say something else. Though it wasn’t expecting him to warm up to it so quickly. “You got a name?”

“I’m sorry?”

“A name. You said you were the RK800 I was assigned.” He finally unbuckled himself and started to get out of the car. The RK800 followed. “Because you kinda look like a Hank to me. Or would it be Henry? Hank sounds better though.”

“Would you prefer I have a name, Lieutenant?”

“Fuck yeah, makes things a whole hell of a lot easier.” He locked the car and went up to the house, beckoning the android forward. It wasn’t sure why it followed. Maybe because he was it’s owner. “Say we’re out in the field, and I call for ya. If I say RK800, then not only do I give away our position, but it takes so long that either one of us could be shot down.”

  
  


It...hadn’t thought about that. To be fair, it didn’t think about a lot of things. It’s processes all ran in the background of it’s “brain” so it didn’t have to. But the Lieutenant had a point, that was a good idea. Before it could voice it’s confirmation of changing it’s designation to “Hank”, a large dog barrelled out of the house and crashed into the android. The Lieutenant practically cackled as he looked at the android and dog. The sound made it’s processors stop all but the basic functions and listen as he wheezed out his last little giggles. The RK800 wondered if that was what friendship felt like. Stopping everything to listen to the other one’s laughter, even at their own expense. An unreadable notification blipped in the upper right of his HUD, a blue arrow indicating something increased. 

  
  


“Well fuck, I guess I can’t hate you now, Sumo likes ya.” Lieutenant Anderson scratched at the back of his head and smiled. The RK800 patted the dog on the head a few times before shooing him back to their owner. 

“With the way you’ve been acting, I don’t believe you hated me to begin with, Lieutenant.”

“Yeah, whatever.” He lingered at the porch as his pet did his business. Giving him a few vigorous strokes when he was ready to go back inside. “Night Robo-Pop, thanks for the ride.”

  
  


The RK800 gave them a small wave as they went inside the house, waiting until a light went on in another room to turn around and call an automated cab. Maybe he was just having a bad day before and took out his frustration on it. That wasn’t unheard of for humans to do. It stood on the sidewalk for another twenty minutes waiting for a cab. It smiled every time it heard Sumo bark, and chuckled when it heard the Lieutenant shout his name exasperatedly. Right. It had to change it’s own designation as per his request. 

  
  


**DESIGNATION: RK800**

**> >CHANGE**

**NEW DESIGNATION: Hank**

**CONFIRM NEW DESIGNATION: Y/N**

**> >Y**

**DESIGNATION: Hank**

  
  
  



	3. I See You When You Cry

_November 6th 2038 1:19 AM_

  
  


Hank settled into the Lieutenant’s chair and interfaced with the terminal to get into his files. It might as well be of some use while waiting for him. As it waited for the terminal to completely boot up, it checked out the Lieutenant’s desk. There was a small bear paw succulent that looked like it was thriving despite the lack of sunlight and proper ventilation. Hank couldn’t help but think that it was fitting. It also found a music player with headphones attached. As it scrolled through the songs, it noticed they were mostly the same songs as the ones he put on in the car. It set the blue music player back down and examined the headphones. Old and worn, but obviously still well loved. There were a few stickers for cartoon characters stuck to the board, put half on top of anti-android stickers. There weren’t many of them. Some were even half peeled off. Lieutenant Anderson seemed to be indecisive. Or maybe he just couldn’t get them all off and gave up halfway through. 

The glass wall has a few pictures and articles taped up to it. They were of Lieutenant Anderson and his achievements as an officer. One even detailed how he became the youngest Lieutenant in Detroit history by taking down a Red Ice ring. A few photos were of him and a few people. Though one stuck out from the others, one that only had two people standing side by side in it. A picture of a younger man, fresh out of the police academy and too green to know how taxing the job would be. But a smile beaming from his face as an identical man stood beside him, disgruntled yet still smiling as an arm was slung around his shoulders. Twins. Lieutenant Anderson had a twin brother. Hank scanned the DPD personnel database and found the man in question. 

**_Detective Caleb Anderson_ **

**_DOB: August 15th 2009_ **

**_AGE: 29_ **

**_CRIMINAL RECORD: None_ **

**_ADDRESS: 75 Michigan Drive, Detroit_ **

**_ADDITIONAL INFORMATION:_ **

  * **_Lieutenant Connor Anderson’s twin brother_**



Hank smiled to itself and continued to look around the Lieutenant’s desk. There was a picture frame that was face-down. It lifted the frame, seeing a photograph of three young men. The Lieutenant and Detective asleep in beach chairs in a grassy area, as a younger boy with icy blue eyes sat in what looked like a children’s pool smiling into the camera. Another boy could be seen in the pool with the boy with blue eyes. Though there was quite a bit of motion blur around him, it looked like the picture was taken just as he was in the middle of falling over. Hank scanned the boy with blue eyes. 

**_Niles Anderson_ **

**_DOB: November 11th 2012_ **

**_AGE: 25_ **

**_CRIMINAL RECORD: None_ **

**_ADDRESS: 43 Wilshire Drive, Detroit_ **

**_ADDITIONAL INFORMATION:_ **

  * **_Lieutenant and Detective Anderson’s younger brother_**



However, the little boy that was in the pool with Niles had too much of a blur around his face. Hank couldn’t properly scan him. Though presumably, he was the child of one of them. Maybe a cousin, even. Someone had to have taken the picture, maybe it was the little boy’s parent or guardian. Though it couldn’t have been someone very good at photography, the image was shaky at best. It was a little blurry and almost looked smudged in some areas. But Hank found itself smiling down at the picture anyway. Someone wanted to save that moment so badly that they didn’t care about how blurry it might have been. It was special enough that Lieutenant Anderson had the picture printed and framed on his desk. But the fact that it was face down raised a few questions in Hank’s programs, if it was so special then why hide it?

It shook it’s head and set the frame back down the way it found it. Realistically the photo was none of it’s business. A now familiar weight sat in it’s chassis as that unreadable notification popped up again. Maybe it should ask Fowler about it the next time they spoke. Until then, it would get to work on the paperwork and files relating to the Ortiz case. That was why it was here after all. Not to snoop around the Lieutenant’s personal belongings. But, Hank reasoned with itself, learning more about him would make it more likely for the two to get along. Thus causing the case to go more smoothly. Precisely. The case will go smoothly and everything will be over in no time at all. Not because it felt compelled to learn more about the sick Lieutenant. 

What could be considered the android’s mind seemed to...wander. It barely needed to pay any attention to the files and reports. That’s what it had certain programs for. It multitasked, thinking about the poor kid who came into work sick, and why no one forced him to go home. Probably because no one besides a small handful of people had actually gotten close enough to him physically to see just how pale he was. But even in the dark of the observation room, Detective Reed had commanded him to get out of the room. Presumably he knew the tells of when he was sick. That would imply that they knew each other well. But there was an air of hostility between the two of them, a tense hostility. Like something bad had happened between them. Though it would have been out of their control, if they didn’t seek each other out yet still looked out for one another. Humans were paradoxes wrapped in enigmas. Hank pulled up it’s file labelled Lieutenant Connor Anderson to add it’s previously gathered information to it. 

**_Lieutenant Connor Anderson_ **

**_DOB: August 15th 2009_ **

**_AGE: 29_ **

**_CRIMINAL RECORD: None_ **

**_ADDRESS: 115 Michigan Drive, Detroit_ **

**_ADDITIONAL INFORMATION:_ **

  * **_Smoker_**


  * **_Asthmatic_**


  * **_Prone to nightmares_**


  * **_Insomniac_**


  * **_Dog owner (Sumo, Saint Bernard)_**



While it filed away the information, and the actual files, it rummaged around his desk drawers. If he was asthmatic then he legally needed an inhaler around him. Though there wasn’t one in his desk. Perhaps he kept it on his person, then? His coat was quite large for him, there would be quite a bit of room for him to hide something in there. Hank shrugged and let it be for now, it could ask him later when he came in for work. Perhaps it could even meet Caleb Anderson as well. Despite it being completely unnecessary to the mission at hand, Hank edited it’s mission parameters to include meeting Detective Anderson as an optional side mission. If the situation didn’t call for it, there would be no need. If Hank happened to meet him, then it was welcomed. 

When Hank was finished with the files it realised it had nothing to do. Fowler always came to get it, so going to the garden was a no-go. Going back to CyberLife at the current hour would be absurd seeing as it would just need to come back to the DPD. Lieutenant Anderson was likely to at least be laying down, so it didn’t see the point in disturbing him. Which left staying at the DPD for the time being. So Hank rolled it’s shoulders, leaned back in the chair, and went into stasis for the rest of the night. At least until 6:30 AM. 

  
  


\---

  
  


_November 6th 2038 6:30 AM_

  
  


Hank came out of stasis to the sight of Lieutenant Anderson looming over it. Except it wasn’t the Lieutenant upon closer inspection. A different coat, and there was the lack of a smokey stench coming from said coat. It had to be Detective Caleb Anderson instead. Hank went to put it’s hand out for him to shake if he wanted, but he quickly turned on his heel and went back to his desk. It was right across the bullpen. Convenient. Hank paid him no mind as he started to go through a drawer, opting to prepare asking when his brother will be in for work. However, when Detective Anderson came back, he carried with him something small and red with an orange cap. An inhaler. Hank accepted the small possibly life-saving device and stood up to properly speak with the Detective. 

  
  


“Thank you, Detective.” It nodded and slipped the inhaler in it’s inside pocket. Safe and secure, just as it would ensure the Lieutenant would be during the investigation. “Though may I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.” He sounded just like the Lieutenant. Well. If he didn’t smoke.

“This inhaler is red, though it was a special cap that is most commonly seen on rescue inhalers. A maintenance inhaler is usually red with a completely removable white cap. Though this one is red with an attached orange one.”

“Your point?”

“Is it a maintenance or rescue inhaler?” It absolutely could find out by testing the medication by taking a puff of it. Though it was potentially life-saving. If the Lieutenant needed it, there was no way Hank would possibly endanger him by misusing it.

“Rescue. For whatever reason they gave me that one.” Detective Anderson backpedaled quickly and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’ve got an extra of a regular one too, the bastard doesn’t take care of himself like he used to. If you need anything for him, come get me. Sure you found my phone number already. Good luck with him, Robo-Cop, you’re gonna need it.”

  
  


Maybe it was just an Anderson thing to use robot themed nicknames for Hank. It sat back down at the Lieutenant’s desk and waited for him to arrive. It would have asked Detective Anderson, but he already was getting to work of his own. That was alright, Hank could wait. An hour went by before anyone else even looked at it though. Even then, it was only Detective Anderson. He looked up at it from his work and sighed, giving a slight frown and shaking his head. Oh. Perhaps it had mistaken being the Lieutenant’s partner for being able to sit in his chair. There was one beside the desks, it decided to sit there instead. Though the Detective's disapproval only grew. Hank didn’t understand. Was it supposed to stand? It would if it was meant to, it wasn’t like it’s legs could get tired. Though before it could stand, Detective Anderson signed at it. It wasn’t aware he knew American Sign Language. 

  
  


_“You don’t have to move.”_

_“You seemed upset with me for sitting at your brother’s desk.”_ Hank smiled at the surprise on Detective Anderson’s face. He hadn’t anticipated it knew ASL. Why wouldn’t it? It was fluent in nearly 300 languages. _“My apologies, I didn’t mean to surprise you.”_

_“No, you just caught me off guard. Didn’t know CyberLife programmed you with ASL.”_

_“They did. May I ask you another question, Detective?”_

_“Yeah why not, it’s not like anyone can eavesdrop this time.”_ He chuckled to himself. It was deeper than the Lieutenant’s laugh.

_“When do you believe your brother will be in for work?”_

_“Depends. How was he last night? He looked pretty exhausted when I saw him last.”_

_“He was exhausted.”_ Hank thought back to seeing him in the blueish white light in the observation room. The sheen of sweat on his forehead and hand pressed against his abdomen. _“I believe he may be ill. There was a 97% chance he was sick in the restroom at nearly 1 AM.”_

_“Migraine again.”_ Detective Anderson sighed and muttered a quick greeting to Detective Reed when he sat down at the desk facing his. Partners. _“He’ll be okay, just a little late. If he’s not in by ten, I’ll drag you to his house.”_

  
  


Hank nodded and turned back to face the terminal. It might as well read through the Lieutenant’s reports for his other recent cases. If it was to engage it’s audio processors properly, it might have heard Detective Reed’s worried voice asking Detective Anderson how the Lieutenant was feeling. But it was too busy trying to occupy itself to notice. Though it did notice how detailed his reports were, he seemed to take his time while going around the scene and likely took extensive notes. Hank decided to read through the reports from the last three months. It would be a good way of knowing who the Lieutenant worked. Both in the field, and as a person. 

There was one case report it started to scan that caused it to pause a moment. The way it was written was immediately different from the rest it had seen. Instead of scanning it and entering the data that way, it actually sat and read it like a human would. A double homicide, the parents of a little girl. It was simply the two being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The daughter was at a friend’s house for a last minute sleep-over, and the parents decided on a last minute date night. As they were coming back home, they noticed the lights were on and called the police. Though the police only found their bodies when they arrived at the house. Apparently it was bloody and brutal. Though it was more of a frenzy, likely caused by the suspect being on Red Ice. There were traces of the drug left in hand prints on both bodies. The prints accumulated in and around areas with pockets. Suspect was likely looking for wallets and/or mobile phones. Lieutenant Anderson tracked the suspect all the way across the city and made the arrest in the middle of someone buying the stolen phones and wallets. 

The report ended there. A few words were misspelled when it got to the topic of the daughter and of the Red Ice being involved. At the very end of it there was a keysmash and was left untouched. Lieutenant Anderson didn’t do well with children in cases. Hank vowed to try and make sure he wouldn’t have to deal with it any more than he had to. If there was a way to avoid any cases that may involve a YK500, it would fight for the case to be given to someone else. Lieutenant Anderson didn’t deserve the emotional response he got from the situation. Hank glanced back at the picture frame. Of course. The little boy. The Lieutenant was reminded of that family member, it couldn’t have been easy to know that little girl would never see her parents again. Hell, Hank thought it was half frying it’s own processors by thinking of how Lieutenant Anderson must have felt. Not that it could understand. But it knew what emotions were and how they affected the human brain. 

Hank sighed and tucked some of it’s hair behind it’s ear. It hadn’t realised it fell past it. It also took note of how Detective Reed watched it. He was only slightly less angry than the night before, some of the fire in his eyes died down. When Hank offered a small wave, he sneered and turned back to his terminal. Humans truly were strange. Technology; androids and the like, virtually eternal. Hank paused for a moment in it’s thought process and chucked to itself. _Virtually._ It made a pun. For a reason it didn’t understand, it was compelled to tell the Lieutenant about it. The unreadable notification came up again and it swatted it away. It should go to the garden. It needed Fowler’s help discerning what it meant. So Hank closed it’s eyes, leaned back in the chair, and waited for Fowler to let it in. It was like knocking almost. It had to reach out in it’s code for the pieces that made up the garden. When they were found, it politely grasped at the code, letting Fowler know it saw a reason to speak with him. He let it in as soon as Hank touched the string of code. 

  
  


\---

  
  


_[OBJECTIVE: FIND FOWLER]_

  
  


Hank opened it’s eyes and scanned the garden. It walked around the path and over a small bridge. It had always found the bridge to be adequately placed. Fowler thought the garden was too open, he would have liked to be in a place like a classroom. Though CyberLife had created the zen garden for the both of them to interact in instead. Not that Hank minded, but it did find it unfortunate for Fowler to be in any discomfort. It welcomed his presence, and the approval from him that came with it. As it reached the middle island, it found Fowler sitting at a table putting together a model plane. It had so many little pieces that he was using a magnifying glass and tweezers to put it together properly. It was a B-2 Stealth model. Likely not one the man had ever flown, but maybe he just wanted to put that one together that day. Hank smiled to itself and walked up closer to him to speak. 

  
  


“Hello Fowler.”

“Hank,” He looked up from the plane and gestured for the android to sit down in the other chair. It did. “It’s good to see you. Congrats Hank, finding that deviant couldn’t’ve been easy. Your interrogation method wasn’t half bad! Pretty good actually. You’re doin’ pretty damn well for yourself out there.”

“Thank you, Fowler.” 

“We've asked the DPD to transfer it to us for further study. Might teach us something about what happened.” He went back to putting the plane together. “The interrogation seemed...difficult. What did you think of the deviant?”

  
  


**TRAUMATIZED ▪ DEVIANCY ▪ SIMULATION**

  
  


“It showed signs of PTSD after being abused by it’s owner,” Hank thought of the way it’s eyes shifted around the room as if it were going to be attacked at any moment. “As if it’s original program had been completely replaced by new instructions.”

“This...Lieutenant Anderson had been officially assigned to the deviancy case with you. What do you make of the kid?”

  
  


**UNPLEASANT ▪ DYSFUNCTIONAL ▪ INTRIGUING ▪ UNSURE**

  
  


“I think he’s irritable, and a bit socially challenged.” Hank found itself smiling despite the previous statements. “But I also think he’s a good detective. He’s an intriguing character. A good kid, Fowler.”

“Well, even if you didn’t approve of the kid, we gotta work with him.” He gestured for Hank to stand, their meeting was almost over. It stood and pushed the chair back in. “What do you think is the best approach? The kid doesn’t exactly want to let you in.”

  
  


**FRIENDLY ▪ ADAPT ▪ INDIFFERENT ▪ DON’T KNOW**

  
  


“I will try to maintain a friendly relationship.” Hank almost frowned when it’s Social Relations program notified it that it’s relationship with Fowler had decreased. “If I can get him to trust me, it will be beneficial to the investigation.” 

“Hank.” Fowler put the tweezers down and sighed, looking the RK800 in the eyes. “More and more androids show signs of deviancy. There’s fuckin’ millions of ‘em in circulation! If they get too unstable, shit’s gonna hit the fan, Hank.” 

“I know. I’m going to fix it. That’s what I was made for.”

“You are the most advanced prototype CyberLife has ever created.” He stood now, expression softening a bit. “If anyone can figure out what’s happening, it’s you.”

“You can count on me, Fowler.” It’s Social Relations program gave a notification saying the relationship had increased. Good, Hank didn’t think things would turn out well if it was to lose the connection to it’s handler. “May I ask you a question? I assure you, it’s about the investigation.”

“Then of course. You know you don’t have to ask for that sort of thing, Hank.” He sat back down at the table and motioned for Hank to sit back in the other chair. It obliged.

“I seem to have this...attachment. To Lieutenant Anderson. Might you know why that is?”

“It’s a part of the Social Relations program. You two work well together, so your programs are trying to mesh with his personality more. Think of it like two humans becoming friends.” Fowler smiled and sat back in his chair. “Think of it like us. We get along well.” 

“Jeffrey,” Hank couldn’t help the lopsided smile it gave him. “You’re my handler.” 

  
  


Fowler barked out a laugh and gently smacked the table. It’s Social Relations program informed it that their relationship had increased. It found itself smiling alongside it’s handler. It knew he was the AI reiteration of Professor Jeffrey Fowler, that information had never been withheld from it. In fact, they almost seemed to bond over the fact. Hank was reminiscent of “every grizzled cop in every porno ever” according to the AI. Though Hank was always quick to quip back with “well at least I’m not a dead professor” to him. They had banter. It was fun. If Hank could even consider it fun, that is. It didn’t quite understand it. Though it’s relationship with the young Lieutenant seemed to teach it many things it previously had no understanding of. 

  
  
  
  



	4. When You're Shy, When You Wanna Die

_ November 6th 2038 9:56 AM _

  
  


Detective Anderson and Hank were almost ready to leave when the Lieutenant came up to his desk. He looked only slightly better than he had the night before. While he had more colour to his face and the bags under his eyes weren’t as severe, he still had the slight tremor in his hands. Hank realised it still had his lighter from the night before. While that in and of itself wasn’t such a bad thing, it didn’t know the details of the Lieutenant’s nicotine addiction. It only knew he had been smoking quite a bit from the state of his lungs. He might have been restless from the lack of nicotine. 

  
  


“It’s good to see you again, Lieutenant.” Hank handed him back his lighter with a smile. He took it after a second, like his brain was trying to catch up with the world around him. 

“Uh, thanks…?”

“Connor.” A voice called from another area. It belonged to a woman. Almost as if Hank had instincts, it scanned her. Captain Amanda Stern. It decided it didn’t like the way she said the Lieutenant’s name. “In my office.”

  
  


Lieutenant Anderson’s shoulders drooped as he walked to the office. Hank looked to the Detective for an answer, but he only signed for them to have good luck. Which was what Hank would imagine being unnerved to feel like. The expression on his face told Hank he was happy it wasn't him called into the office. But not for reasons that were typical. Something was off. Something Hank wanted to keep the young Lieutenant away from. Though it didn’t understand why there was a weight that sat in it’s chassis. Why it was accompanied by the unreadable increase of a notification again. It was too caught up in it’s debrief with Fowler to ask about the notification. Shit.

Hank followed him into Captain Stern’s office. It closed the door and stood by it, seeing as it had no reason to sit. Nor was it invited to like the Lieutenant was. Captain Stern motioned to a chair and he immediately sat down. His body was rigid. His shoulders tense and drawn up slightly, hands balled up in fists in his lap. Hank stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder. It was surprised he didn’t shrug it off. Good, it needed to check his vitals for a second. He was  _ scared. _ He didn’t want to be in there. Lieutenant Anderson didn’t like the Captain. Before he realised what he was thinking, Hank wanted to get Connor out of there. 

He...he  _ wanted? _

No. Absolutely not. Hank did not  _ want. _

He-- _It_ was a _machine._ _It_ was designed for a purpose. A task. 

_ It _ was not  _ alive. _

_ It did not want. _

It stood still as it listened to Captain Stern inform Lieutenant Anderson that he was assigned the RK800 and they also were assigned all cases involving androids. Hank looked directly at her. That wasn’t what it was assigned for. It was assigned for homicides. Those were the most likely to lead it to deviants, so it was supposed to work all homicides involving CyberLife androids. Not to play clean-up crew for the DPD. If the others couldn’t handle their own cases, then why were they forcing the poor kid to take them? He was only twenty-nine for fuck’s sake! Give the damn kid a break, who cares if he’s a Lieutenant? He needed to take time for himself as well. 

Though he only nodded and told her he wouldn’t let her down. There was a drive behind his voice. One that said he was ready for the case and whatever it may bring to them. Lieutenant Anderson still was uneasy in her office, but not as much as when he had first walked in. Maybe Hank had overreacted. Maybe he just didn’t like being in the Captain’s office. After all, Hank had known that no one liked being called into their boss’s office. Well, it didn’t mind being called to the garden, but that was different. Fowler was a  _ friend. _ He had even said so. It looked between Captain Stern and Lieutenant Anderson, the two of them were nothing like it and Fowler. It took it’s hand off his shoulder, immediately noticing how his shoulders got a bit more tense. Though they were dismissed before it could put it’s hand back. 

Lieutenant Anderson flopped down in his chair and twirled around a few times. It was something so odd and childish that Hank couldn’t help the little smile on it’s face. Shaking it’s head, it chuckled. The Lieutenant made a sound and waved his hand in the air. That was good, at least he didn’t feel terrible coming in to work today. Hank knew it should talk to him, maybe strike up conversation to ease his nerves.

**UNDERSTANDING ▪ PRAGMATIC ▪ CONSTRUCTIVE**

  
  


“I get the impression Captain Stern’s presence causes you some discomfort, Lieutenant. I’d like you to know I’ll do what I can to act as a buffer between you two in the future.” He didn’t answer it. That was fair, it might have spoken out of turn. It couldn’t help that it was compelled to ensure his safety. 

  
  


**PARTNERS ▪ POSITIVE ▪ DESK**

  
  


“Now that we’re partners it would be great to get to know each other better.” He still sat facing his terminal, body slightly less rigid. Though he was still somewhat tense. 

  
  


**POSITIVE ▪ DESK**

  
  


“Is there a desk anywhere I could use?”

“No one’s using that one.”

  
  


Hank couldn’t help but release a bit of tension in it’s own shoulders when Lieutenant Anderson finally moved. He gently pointed at the desk facing his own, not really paying any attention to the movement. Free, easy, calm. Hank nodded and sat down in the chair. It was an empty desk. Not that it would have been anything else, the Lieutenant did say no one was using it. Hank thought it was a tad bare. Bare. Bear. The succulent. It should tell him that it thought the little plant suited him. Hank smiled to itself and went to go tell him. But...there was a far away look in his eyes. It’s gaze followed the Lieutenant’s down to the picture frame. It had put the picture back exactly the same way as it found it. There was no way he could have known it saw his family. If the Lieutenant somehow knew, he didn’t show it. Which meant that he didn’t know. So then why was he looking at the frame with such sad eyes? Hank want-- needed to take his mind off of it. 

  
  


“I like your little succulent, a bear paw. I think it suits you.” It interfaced with the terminal, keeping the Lieutenant in the corner of it’s HUD. It saw the slight smile on his face and considered it a win.

“My brother gave it to me a month ago. Figured he was sick of coming in and seeing no colour over here.” 

  
  


**_LIEUTENANT ANDERSON_ ** **＾**

  
  


“I met your brother today. Detective Caleb Anderson. Does anyone ever mix the two of you up?” Hank hoped a bit of humour would lift his spirits more. “You two  _ are _ twins after all.”

“Meant my other brother, but okay.” The Lieutenant let out a wheezy little laugh and shook his head. “But Caleb and I? No fuckin’ way, we’re nothing alike. He’s way better at coming in on time. Well, actually. There was that one party.”

“What happened?”

“Okay so you know Detective Reed now, right?” Hank nodded when Lieutenant Anderson pointed across the way to his desk. He smirked and leaned back a bit in his chair. “Him and my brother had a  _ thing _ for a little while. One time we had a little holiday party at the end of the year. We dressed like each other to see how many people we could fuck with. Oh you should have  _ seen the look-- _ ” 

  
  


**_LIEUTENANT ANDERSON_ ** **＾**

  
  


Hank listened as it’s partner told the story. Tears in his eyes as he laughed so hard he wheezed, so hard that he stopped making noise. At one point Hank was convinced he had stopped breathing and tried to force him to take his inhaler. But he just waved him away and continued with the story. It was...nice. Hank liked it. Hank liked seeing him smile and laugh like this. The unreadable notification came back with a vengeance, and he willed it away. He knew it kept popping up, but couldn’t read it. He would bother with it later. Hank didn’t mind it blinking in his HUD as long as he got to give the Lieutenant some very much needed downtime. 

They needed to be reminded, by Detective Anderson smacking the back of the Lieutenant’s head, to actually do work. Though he did smack his brother upside the head, Detective Anderson had a fond smile on his face. Hank thought they were more alike than they cared to admit. But they did start to get to work. Lieutenant Anderson went back through a few cases as Hank scrolled through all of the deviancy cases. There were...so...many. He looked back up to the Lieutenant while he was reading. He was still just a kid and was getting thrown 243 god damn cases. Hank ran a hand down his face and sighed, turning the Lieutenant’s attention on him.

  
  


“An AX400 was reported to have assaulted a man last night.” Hank crossed his arms and leaned forward on his desk. “That could be a good starting point for our investigation.”

“Alright, let’s go.” The Lieutenant grabbed a pen from his desk and threw it at his brother. Who made an awful noise as it hit him in the arm. “We’re heading out to check a case. Have fun.”

  
  


Hank held back a little laugh when he heard Detective Anderson half-shout obscenities after his brother. They left the precinct rather casually, the Lieutenant striking up friendly conversation. Though it was a bit...forced. Hank didn’t say anything because he didn’t think it would help the situation. If Lieutenant Anderson wanted to talk about it then he would. He wasn’t going to pressure the kid. They climbed in the car, Hank being given the music player to pick a song. He realized what the Lieutenant was doing. He was testing him. Hank had been getting a tad too close in the last day. He scrolled through the music for the first couple minutes of the ride, just reading through them and seeing what they all were. He settled on  _ The Tragic Truth  _ by  _ Five Finger Death Punch _ seeing as the last time a song by that band came on, the Lieutenant had turned up the volume in approval. Hank looked back at him to see if he would approve. Though he gave no outward reaction. Did Hank not do as he was supposed to? He was told to pick a song and he did. 

The Lieutenant’s sigh was enough of an answer. He glanced at Hank for a second before looking back to the road and saying he made a good choice. Apparently it was one of his favourites in recent years. Ah, there’s the heavy metal sound he was expecting from before. Hank tapped his foot to the general beat of the music, though he wasn’t very good at it. The Lieutenant started to mutter the lyrics to himself as they made their way up to the Ravendale district. Hank couldn’t help but feel that it wasn’t a good choice, Lieutenant Anderson seemed...sad.

  
  


\---

  
  


_ November 6th 2038 10:25 AM _

  
  


By the time they pulled up to the motel area to park, Hank had put on a few songs. He reached into the depths of the playlist and played a few songs that it thought might draw a nice contrast to the mostly metal sounds. Despite there only a third of the songs being heavy metal or hard rock, that was what mostly played while on shuffle. Hank liked the break the other songs gave his audio processors. He also was fond of  _ Exile Vilify  _ by  _ The National _ if he was to be honest with himself. Though if he were to really be honest with himself, he  _ liked _ something. It wouldn't hurt to tell Fowler a little white lie the next time he saw him. The Lieutenant’s genuine smile whenever Hank said he liked something was worth so much more than Fowler’s assessment of his worth. He started to make a list, in fact. The Lieutenant was on it of course. As well as his smile and laughter. As well as his dog Sumo, the softer music, and Detective Anderson. Hank hadn’t been activated for very long while working with the Lieutenant. He didn’t exactly know what he did and didn’t like. But he was sure of the fact that the young Lieutenant was teaching him how to like and dislike. 

  
  


“We’ve got officers sweeping the neighbourhood, in case anyone saw anything.” Officer Collins addressed the Lieutenant. Hank was standing by the car still, waiting for instructions. 

“Okay. Well, let me know if they turn anything up.”

“What are you gonna do with that?” 

  
  


Right. Hank wasn’t a he. Hank was an  _ it. _ How that had slipped past it’s processors was a mystery. It would have to self-test again for deviancy. What if it wasn’t just an emotional shock that did it? What if it was a gradual thing, too? If it was turning deviant it would have to be reset. CyberLife would have to do a manual hard reset, and that could set the investigation back. Hank needed to get it’s priorities in order. Ensuring the Lieutenant was safe and healthy  _ helped _ it with it’s mission. Though it certainly was  _ not _ it’s mission. It was made to investigate yes, but it was repurposed to end deviancy. That was exactly what it intended to do. Hank recalibrated itself and it’s mission parameters. Finding the AX400 would be a likely lead into the deviancy crisis, this would do just fine. For now it would review the basic timeline of events with the Lieutenant. Getting it’s processors back to the mission would ensure it’s focus was on what mattered. 

  
  


“It took the first bus that came along, and then stayed at the end of the line. It’s decision wasn’t planned, it was driven by fear.” 

“Androids don’t feel fear.” There was a hint of disbelief in the Lieutenant’s voice. Like he wasn’t exactly sure where he stood with that statement anymore. 

“Deviants do.” Yet another reason for it to stop using up processing power regarding the state of it’s software and it’s stability as a machine. “They get overwhelmed by their emotions and make irrational decisions.”

“Ah well, that still doesn’t tell us where it went.”

“It didn’t have a plan, and it had nowhere to go. Maybe it didn’t go far…”

“Maybe…”

  
  


Hank roamed around the area for a few minutes, taking in the urban sights. Nothing seemed particularly out of place until it found a chain link fence. A chain link fence with thirium on it. It shouted toward the house, asking if anyone was home. Hank pulled up the links and tugged, tearing them further and making an opening big enough for it to shimmy through on it’s hands and knees. It quietly made it’s way around the house and to the door. 

Letting itself inside, Hank took note of the damaged state the WR600 was in. It was shaking terribly and had scarring on the left side of it’s face. As Hank questioned it, it noticed a particularly strange error in it’s program. It had no sense of self. Sure androids weren’t alive and therefore shouldn’t have a sense of self. But they usually did have some semblance, some tie, between their names and physical presence. But this WR600, this  _ Ralph,  _ referred to itself in the third person and used masculine pronouns for itself. It was absolutely deviant. It wasn’t until Hank checked the small space under the stairs that it got a reaction from the WR600. It tackled it, calling out for someone to run. However, the WR600 was no match for CyberLife’s most advanced prototype. It threw the deviant off of itself and caused a ruckus. Lieutenant Anderson ran inside with his firearm drawn. 

  
  


“Hank! What’s going on?!”

“It’s here! Call it in!”

  
  


It wasted no time chasing after the AX400, knowing fully well that the Lieutenant would try to follow as well. But there was a YK500 involved. The Lieutenant wouldn’t be able to see it as anything other than a child. Hank had to get to them first, it had to get the AX400 and then determine if the YK500 was deviant or not. If they both were...the Lieutenant might not be able to handle knowing what would happen to the YK500. It would either get reset, or sent to the scrapyard. Hank shook it’s head and ran down the alleyway after them both. 

As it nearly crashed into the fence, it locked eyes with the AX400. It just...looked at it. Hank paused for just long enough for it to slide down the hill and started to get over the guardrail. It couldn’t move. It...knew. Hank  _ knew.  _ He  _ understood. _ That was a mother and child. No! No, it wasn’t! That was a deviant and an android! It was just corrupted data! A one in the place of a zero! There was nothing behind those eyes. There was a series of numbers and letters. Algorithms and phrases. There was no life behind those eyes. There was only an electrical device, a  _ toy, _ that was broken and needed to be replaced. Hank got ready to climb the fence and go after them both. 

  
  


“Oh fuck, that’s insane!” The Lieutenant's voice bounced off of the alley’s walls. His voice shook and wavered. Hank’s advanced audio processors could pick up his laboured breathing. Fear. It didn’t matter, Hank had a mission. It wasn’t going to hold the Lieutenant's hand and tell him everything was going to be okay. It started to climb the fence. “Woah, hey! Where you goin’?”

“I can’t let them get away.”

“They won’t! They’ll never make it to the other side…”

“I can’t take that chance.” That was true. It couldn’t. It needed that AX400, it needed to get it and bring it in activated. It would be an immense help to CyberLife. 

“Hey, you will get yourself killed!” His voice was almost shrill. He was terrified. “Do  _ not _ go after ‘em, Hank, do you hear me?! That’s an order!”

  
  


It stood down. Hank let go of the fence and watched the unreadable notification blink again, as well as it’s Social Relations program’s notification saying it’s relationship had increased with the Lieutenant. The Lieutenant who was hyperventilating and starting to spiral into a full blown panic attack. Hank’s eyes darted between watching the pair on the highway and the Lieutenant. 

_ Fuck it. _

Hank grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him to kneel on the ground, fumbling as he grabbed the Lieutenant’s rescue inhaler. He worked himself up so much that he was wheezing like he had the death rattle. Connor coughed and sputtered, gasping for breath after breath that he couldn’t get. Hank nearly completely ripped off the cap and then shook the inhaler in his hand. Connor didn’t even register the sound of the medication rattling, he was too far into his own head. Hank took his head in his hand, pressing down on his cheeks to force his mouth open more, and then stuck the inhaler in his mouth. 

  
  


“Okay, okay, breathe in for me.” Hank pressed down on the medication, listening as it sprayed into his airways to force them open. Connor managed to take a breath and hold it for a few seconds. Good. Good he understood what was happening around him. “Good, we gotta do it again. Connor? Connor you gotta take another dose for me, okay?” 

  
  


He dumbly nodded and let Hank administer the medication for him. Hank didn’t understand what was going on, why he was compelled to make sure Connor didn’t suffocate. Well, he couldn't understand the urgency behind his actions. Fowler already explained that his Social Relations program wanted to mesh with his personality to make working the case easier. That he completely understood, that he knew was correct. Fowler told him so. But the way his hands didn’t seem to move fast enough, the way he had to pat the kid to make sure he was still there, the way he wanted to hold him close and tell him it was okay. That he didn’t understand. 

  
  


“Oh, oh my god. Oh my fucking god,” Connor mumbled as he got his breath back. He stood up on shaky legs, leaning against the wall. “That was a  _ kid. _ That android had a fucking  _ kid. _ ”

“A YK500, Lieutenant. Not a child, an android.”

“But she thinks like a kid!” His hands flew up to his head, fingers running through his curls and tugging on them. “So she’s a fucking kid!” 

  
  


The colour drained from Connor’s face as he stumbled while turning around, bracing himself on the brick wall and slightly extending his legs out behind himself. His breath ran ragged as he sputtered, mumbling about “another kid.” He was cut off by an awful wet retch, shoulders hunching in on himself and knees going weak. Hank put a hand on his shoulder. He didn’t refuse it. He stood with his hand rubbing circles into Connor's back, quietly assuring him that he was okay. He nodded along as best he could, trying his best not to get sick from his panic. Hank stood there with his kid for a little while. Telling him they made it to the other side, even if he didn’t actually know if they did. But that was what Connor needed to hear right now. So that was what Hank told him. 

  
  
  
  



	5. I See You When You Smile

_ November 6th 2038 12:43 PM _

  
  


That was  _ not _ what Hank was expecting to happen today. He wasn’t expecting to let the deviant get away willingly, or to practically hold up his partner while he tried to will himself not to be sick. Hank wasn’t expecting to force the kid to take his inhaler. He didn’t expect to rub circles into his back while he shook and muttered about a kid. Honestly, Hank was just as confused as anyone could be in that situation. He never had to work with a partner before. So he absolutely never had to calm his partner down after a panic attack. To say that Hank had no idea what he was doing would be an understatement. But it seemed that all Connor really needed at the moment was for someone to stand there with him. To not be alone. Hank was more than willing to oblige. He did promise himself that no harm would come to the young Lieutenant. Even as a machine, he was going to make good on that promise. 

By the time Connor was stable enough to leave, the deviant was long gone. Hank so desperately wanted to curse at the Lieutenant for not letting him go after her and the little girl. But he couldn’t. He was given an order to stay. So stay he did. Despite it going against his programming and his mission, he stayed. Though maybe it was a good thing he did. Hank had Connor’s rescue inhaler. If he hadn’t stayed...would he have suffocated? Would he have gotten the proper care he needed in time? Hank didn’t like the thought of Connor wheezing on the dirty ground, trying desperately to breathe and by extension stay alive. It certainly didn’t help that it was cold out. Hank didn’t think much of himself, he was just an android assigned to the deviancy crisis. 

In that moment he was a caretaker. He did have the basic protocols just in case they were needed. Connor didn’t need much, or he didn’t want much, rather. He only wanted someone there to ground him to the present. So that was exactly what Hank did. He held onto his shoulder and steered him into the car, taking care to make sure he didn’t smack his head into the car as he got in. Hank took the driver’s seat and fished around Connor’s coat pockets for his keys. Connor...didn’t move. He just slumped in the seat staring out the window, watching the rainfall and his breath fog up the glass. The familiar weight sat heavy in his chest. Hank didn’t know why his Social Relations program was so hellbent on meshing with Connor’s personality. Hopefully the case would be over and done with soon. He didn’t know how much more of that weight, of the uncertainty, of the unreadable notifications, he could take. It was unknown and strange. 

Connor didn’t seem to want to talk, he just messed around with stuff in the glovebox. However, in the time they were driving back, he had smoked quite a bit. His cough came from his chest and he was slightly wheezing. But he gave Hank the order not to talk to him about his smoking habits. Hank wanted to object, but a red wall told him not to. Right. It was a machine designed for a task. It wasn’t his friend. It didn’t feel, it didn’t care, it didn’t worry.  _ It didn’t worry. _ So Hank sat still in the driver’s seat and let the Lieutenant continue with his deadly habit. They eventually ended up sitting in the car in the DPD parking lot across the street. Hank did, in fact, have Detective Anderson’s phone number and texted him the details of what happened. He was checking out a lead with Detective Reed at the moment, but promised he would be back before one in the afternoon. So they waited for him. 

Detective Anderson basically sprinted out of the car while it was still moving. Hank exited the Lieutenant’s car, telling him what happened and catching him up on the Lieutenant’s current state. It expected many different responses from the younger twin. But it didn’t expect him to sigh and get in the driver’s seat, telling Hank to get in the back. It patiently waited in the back as Detective Anderson spoke to Detective Reed through the window. For a reason only the Social Relations program genuinely understood, Hank scanned it’s partner. The Lieutenant’s vitals were all over the place, he was unstable. It really should request a transfer of partnership. It needed a partner who wouldn’t fall apart at the sight of two  _ androids _ crossing the freeway. It looked like a little girl but it  _ wasn’t. _ Those were two androids, one all but explicitly confirmed deviant. The Lieutenant’s reaction was extreme and uncalled for. There was no reason for him to get so worked up over-- Why was the Detective snapping his fingers at Hank?

  
  


“Tell me what he was talking about while he was out of it.” Detective Anderson turned down the volume a little bit. “He’s passed out. I’m gonna drive around the city a little, so you have to tell me.”

“You’re stubborn and rash.” Hank scoffed and turned to look out the window. “He was saying something about a kid.”

“A kid?” Hank looked back to see Detective Anderson’s shoulders slumped and hands gripping the steering wheel. “Makes sense. Anything else?”

  
  


Hank shook it’s head, and that was that. Detective Anderson drove around the city just as he said he would. He also seemed to have the habit of muttering the lyrics of songs to himself, a few songs he nodded at and proceeded to mumble along. They were quite a bit alike. Maybe they had a falling out at some point and that was why the Lieutenant seemed to think they didn’t have much in common. Not that it mattered, of course. Hank wouldn’t be around for much longer after they solved the case. Nothing about the brothers was of Hank’s concern. It was made to stop deviancy, and that was what it fully intended to do. Nothing could stop it from accomplishing it’s mission. 

Yet that didn’t explain why it... _ felt. _ Hank knew what it’s mission was. Realistically, it knew what it should and shouldn’t do to keep the case going. It should follow the deviants. It should not stop to reassure it’s partner the deviants got away. But it  _ didn't _ follow them, it  _ did _ stay for the Lieutenant. Hank really needed to self-test again. If this was all a part of it’s Social Relations program, then it was quite powerful. Then CyberLife created an android with a  _ personality. _ They created an android who looked like a grizzled cop, who acted like it knew best for the Lieutenant. CyberLife created a perfect imitation of  _ life. _

How they had done that was beyond Hank. Frankly, the topic was none of it’s business. The company was called Cyber _ Life _ after all. They made toys that were realistic and were to be mistaken as human all the time. Hell, Hank knew the history. It was literally programmed with it in it’s memory banks. In 2021 Chloe Kamski created Elijah, the first true android, the RT600 that passed the Turing Test. It also passed the Face-to-Face test in 2022. Androids were meant to be realistic and human. But only in appearance. They were not made to feel, to emote like humans did, they were not alive. They did not think, therefore they were not. But Hank could think in a way...was it--

  
  


“C’mon, get up, Con.” Detective Anderson’s soft voice brought Hank out of it’s thoughts. A few hours had passed apparently, and they were parked outside of a food truck. “Gotta get a little somethin’ in ya, c’mon, get up.”

  
  


The Lieutenant weakly argued that he didn’t want to eat anything. Hank’s systems immediately picked up on the slight desperation in his voice. It’s systems also displayed the unreadable notification. He  _ really _ didn’t want to eat anything. That didn’t make any sense. Humans required sustenance, they needed it in order to survive. Hank watched as Detective Anderson started to reach over and unbuckle his brother’s seatbelt himself, mumbling about him being difficult and stubborn. Dejection. Detective Anderson had dealt with him in this state before. It made sense, they were twins. They likely had spent quite a bit of time with each other growing up. It would only be natural for the Detective to know how his brother worked. 

Though when the Detective dropped back down in the driver’s seat...something in his demeanor changed. He wasn’t angry. That wasn’t it. But he  _ was _ upset. Hank didn’t understand why exactly. Though it did understand that humans needed to eat regularly in order to maintain their physical, and in many cases mental, health. It shifted slightly and opened it’s mouth to speak. A glare from Detective Anderson made it shut it’s mouth and sit back again. Apparently this wasn’t for it to help with. This was a family matter. It was not family, it was an android, it would never  _ have _ a family. Outside looking in. Hank couldn’t explain the strain in it’s wires when it realised that. It looked through the gap between the seat and door to try and get a look at the Lieutenant through the side-view mirror. He looked...tired. Not just in a physical sense. But he looked like he didn’t want to be there anymore. Despite basically being told not to, Hank spoke up. 

  
  


“Lieutenant, you need to eat something. Even if it’s something small.” He looked at Hank through the mirror, his eyes almost glassy. “Please, Lieutenant.”

“Lil’ somethin’. Sure.” 

  
  


The three of them got out of the car and walked up to the food truck. Hank couldn’t eat or drink, unless one were to count thirium as a drink, but it knew it had to make sure the Lieutenant ate. It watched him fidget while his brother ordered for them both. He didn’t want to be there. Hank could understand why, the food grade on the window said the place was given a C and the most recent renewal was refused. It didn’t trust the food truck. Though it did keep it’s mouth shut as Detective Anderson told it to take his brother to a table. The Lieutenant crossed his arms and went to go stand at one himself. If it couldn't take him to one, then it supposed it would follow. He shook his head and turned away when it arrived at the table. Had it done something wrong? It tried it’s best to follow the order it was given by his brother. 

**APOLOGISE FOR BEHAVIOUR ▪ PARTNERS ▪ RECONCILE ▪ REVIEW FACTS**

  
  


“I know you don’t exactly feel up to eating, Lieutenant. I understand that panic attacks can have lasting effects for a while. I’m sorry, but you should know that you have to eat something.” 

“Shit, CyberLife even gave you a brown-nosing apology program. Bastards really thought of everything, didn’t they?”

  
  


**_LIEUTENANT ANDERSON_ ** **＾**

  
  


Hank smiled as the Lieutenant chuckled to himself. A smile was better. His shoulders still drooped and he still looked like he wanted to be anywhere but under that umbrella. But a smile was better than the scowl he had before, it was something Hank decided was better for him in general. Soon enough, Detective Anderson joined them both, somewhat doing a balancing act with the times he held. Hank grabbed the top box and set it down on the table. The Detective flashed a crooked smile and nudged his brother, telling him to eat. 

They spoke as they ate. Hank asking the brothers questions and answering theirs. Turns out, the Lieutenant was the oldest of the group. He was older than the Detective by almost exactly six minutes apparently. Which caused the Detective to scrunch up his nose and rather childishly blow a raspberry at him. Hank thought it was endearing. It also thought that the way they spoke of their younger brother Niles was endearing as well. Apparently he was mostly non-verbal when they were kids, and that was why they knew ASL. He also, much to the Lieutenant’s apparent discomfort, was a nurse up at the hospital. All three of them were hard at work saving lives. Though Hank noticed one was missing. The little boy from the photo. With just enough motion blur to render trying to scan his face useless. Instead of possibly triggering the Lieutenant again, it asked about the deviants from earlier that day. 

  
  


“This morning, when we were chasing those deviants… Why didn’t you want me to cross the highway?”

“‘Cause you coulda been killed…” The Lieutenant quickly backpedaled and stuffed his hands in his pockets. Just like his brother did. “And I don’t like filling out paperwork for damaged equipment.” 

  
  


Though he didn’t sound like he had meant the last part. Like he didn’t exactly view Hank as a tool. Detective Anderson seemed to share the sentiment. His facial expression twisted into one of discomfort as he nodded along. They really were more alike than they thought, they almost mirrored each other perfectly when they moved. Some twin thing probably. Just like with the Lieutenant, Hank found itself feeling compelled to ensure his safety and comfort. Yet again, it didn’t know why. It wasn’t like he was integral to the investigation. Detective Caleb Anderson meant nothing to CyberLife, meant nothing to Fowler, meant nothing to Hank. But. He  _ did. _ Detective Caleb Anderson  _ meant something _ to Hank. Frankly, the fact unnerved it. 

  
  


“Maybe I should tell you both what we know about deviants?”

“You read my mind!” Detective Anderson grinned as he tipped his drink in Hank's direction. “Proceed.”

“We believe that a mutation occurs in the software of some androids, which can lead to them emulating a human emotion.” 

“Woah, hey. Dumb it down for the idiot twink present.” Lieutenant Anderson snickered as he elbowed his brother gently.

“Of course.” It didn’t understand why the brothers acted the way they did, but it didn’t pay it any mind. It did take note of the slightly offended look the Detective gave, and the wheezy laugh his brother gave in response. “They don’t really  _ feel _ emotions, they just get overwhelmed by irrational instructions, which can lead to unpredictable behaviour.”

“Emotions always screw everything up.” Lieutenant Anderson looked down at the table as he mumbled the words. Something happened to him. Something bad. “Maybe androids aren’t as different from us as we thought.”

  
  


Hank changed the subject. It brought the conversation back to the brothers, asking them if they saw each other often outside of work. Asking if they got together to hang out and watch movies or something. The Lieutenant didn’t say anything, but he did look grateful for the topic changing. Which caused the Social Relations program to show increased relationships for both brothers. They continued to talk about their family. How they were from Detroit and their parents had moved further south after all the kids moved out. Lieutenant Anderson joked about how much of a mess the Detective used to make in their shared room. While the Detective would complain about the mess of textbooks and school supplies the Lieutenant always seemed to be swimming in. They spoke highly of Niles and his achievements. How he just became a licensed nurse and how they were very proud of them. The Lieutenant looked less perturbed while talking about it the second time around, and even moved around enough that his curls bounced slightly. Which caused the Detective to gently tug on the one that fell on his forehead. Honestly, Hank was fully prepared to break up a spat between them both. But they didn’t shove at each other. The twins just continued to talk. They talked, and Hank ran a program in the background detailing it’s thoughts and ideas about the one family member missing from the conversation.

It might just be able to get an answer as to who the little boy was if it played it’s cards right. It actually fully planned on asking them about it directly if it didn’t get an answer soon. Hank didn’t know why it’s programming focused so much on the little boy and his importance. But he was the only one who wasn’t mentioned, and the picture frame was face down on the Lieutenant’s desk. Then there was the mystery of who took the picture still floating around. Maybe his parent or guardian? Hank knew whatever reason the brothers had for not bringing him up was a good one. But it couldn’t help wanting to understand why. 

  
  


“You ever dealt with deviants before?” Detective Anderson swirled his drink in his hand and gave Hank a sideways glance. “Y’know, before you became the government assigned bear to Connor’s twink.”

  
  


Hank thought back to Daniel and Emma Phillips. The way it held her out over the edge of the building, the way she cried and begged for Hank to save her, the way the wind whipped through his hair and pulled it out of it’s little ponytail. Hank thought about how desperate and sad and agonizing and how utterly  _ human _ Daniel’s voice sounded that night. The sounds of S.W.A.T. running around inside the home. Of the helicopter before he motioned for it to leave. But the worst sound to remember was Daniel’s voice when he said Hank had lied to him. The  _ static _ running under his words. Bleeding, blending, mixing with the other sounds of the night. It was awful. An amalgamation of too many sounds, too many lights, too many cameras, too many voices--

  
  


“Hank?” Connor’s voice brought him out of the memory loop. Right. He was here at the food truck he didn’t trust, with two humans he absolutely trusted. “Hank, are you okay?”

“A few months back…” Hank knew it would be easier to evade the question rather than answer it. So he answered Caleb’s question instead. “A deviant was threatening to jump off a roof with a little girl… I managed to save her.”

  
  


For whatever reason, he didn’t want to talk about it. That had never happened before. Hank looked away into the rain. He watched the street and the few people that walked along it. He didn’t want to see whatever Connor’s expression would have been, he didn’t want to see how hurt he would probably be. Hank knew he saved Emma Phillips, he knew he did the right thing, he knew that he saved a life that night. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that he helped end one too. Which was absurd. Daniel wasn’t alive. He was--  _ It was an android. _ It wasn’t alive. Just like Hank. Hank was an android.  _ It _ wasn’t alive. 

It didn’t kill anything, because there was nothing alive at risk. Emma Phillips was safe and sound. Probably emotionally stunted form that night. But safe and with her mother. Hank saved her life. That was all that mattered. It was designed to negotiate and solve crimes, and that was exactly what it did then. Exactly what it did now. It looked back to the brothers, almost letting itself show an expression matching the Lieutenant’s own. But it did not  _ feel. _ It was not  _ alive. _ He looked devastated. He looked like he had just witnessed a tragedy, and was struggling to look away. Hank wanted to apologise for saying that so soon after the Lieutenant had panicked because of something looking like a child. 

A red wall forbid it. The red wall keeping it inside it’s code. Keeping it from becoming a deviant. It desperately needed to change how it worked with the Lieutenant, at this rate it  _ would _ deviate. What did it mean when it became the very thing it was created to hunt down and terminate? Would it’s code basically implode in on itself? Would it change as an investigator? There were too many variables. Too many different paths branching out from the possibility. It wouldn’t become a deviant. The RK800 was repurposed for ending the deviancy crisis. Speaking of; it had just gotten a message containing attachments of a case. 

  
  


“I just got a report of a suspected deviant. It’s a few blocks away.” Hank tilted it’s head in the general direction of the address. “We should go have a look. I’ll let you finish your meals. I’ll be in the car, if you need me.”

“I’m comin’ with ya, Caleb you have fun.”

  
  


The Lieutenant threw away about half of the sandwich and the empty drink. He followed Hank to the car, slipping into the passenger seat and clicking in his seat belt. There was relative silence aside from the Lieutenant's shallow breathing. Hank leaned back and closed it’s eyes. It listened to the rain hitting the roof of the car, to the Lieutenant’s breathing, the sound of the Detective opening and closing the door. Hank listened to the engine, the music softly playing from the speakers, the brothers bickering trying to decide what to put on. Hank listened to the world around the three of them. And he wondered if the deviants even realised that this was what they were leaving behind when they chose to run. 

  
  
  
  



	6. It Takes A While; At Least, You're Here

_November 6th 2038 3:28 PM_

  
  


“Hey Robo-Cop!” Detective Anderson called out to Hank, making it open it’s eyes and see the twins standing outside of the elevator. “You ran outta batteries or what?”

“I’m sorry, I was making a report to CyberLife.”

“Huh…” The Lieutenant shifted his weight from one leg to the other, then back to the first. “Well, do you plan on staying in the elevator?”

“No! I’m coming.”

  
  


As they made their way down the hallway, Hank debriefed them both. Nothing much to go off of. Just strange noises, no one was supposed to live on that floor, and a neighbour saw a man trying to hide an LED under a cap. The Detective said something about needing more cops if they were going to investigate every weird noise. Hank had half a mind to say that he wasn’t even on the deviancy case. But the way he and the Lieutenant interacted certainly was a welcome sight, it allowed Hank to see a different side to how the older twin worked out in the field. Hank knocked on the door a few times and asked if anyone was home. The brothers just shrugged when it looked back to them. Well alright then, it knocked again and announced that it was the Detroit Police. That certainly got a reaction from whoever was inside. There were a few thuds, and then silence. 

  
  


“Both of you,” The Lieutenant grabbed his firearm from it’s holster and pointed it in front of himself. “Get behind me.”

“Connor--”

“I said; _behind me,_ Caleb.”

  
  


Hank and Caleb stood behind him as he kicked in the door. Beyond it was a small hallway with a few doors and an oddly geometric pattern on the left wall. The Lieutenant pushed the two doors in, pointing his firearm into the rooms as he did. The last door was at the very end of the hall. The Detective brandished his own firearm and stood on the side of the doorway, exchanging a nod with his brother as he went to push in the door. The Lieutenant shoved the door open, and stumbled backwards as a couple of birds flew at the group. Hank caught him before he could fall on his backside and helped put him back on his feet. Elevated heart rate, wide eyes, quickened breath, slight tremor in his hands. Fear. _Lieutenant Anderson was afraid of pigeons._

He muttered a few exemplatives to himself after thanking Hank for catching him and then shuffled into the room. The Detective was already inside and investigating to the best of his ability. It was a little dark for human eyes, Hank was surprised he could see enough to even attempt to look around. Hank roamed around the seemingly abandoned apartment. Pigeons flew up and sat on it’s shoulders and head quite a few times. It would brush them away, making them flock together in another area of the room. Yet they seemed to like it. They always came back to perch up on it. The Lieutenant wouldn’t even get near it when the birds were sitting on it’s shoulders. The Detective took the opportunity to tease him, making him half-shout back that he “wasn’t afraid of any damn pigeons.”

Hank roamed the apartment, accepting it’s fate of being a pigeon taxi. There was a secondhand military jacket, with the initials R.T. written inside of it. The Detective made the annoyed comment of a parent writing their child’s initials in a child’s article of clothing. From the tone of his voice, he was upset. It suggested he had a negative experience connected to the subject matter. Perhaps their mother hadn’t done that. Or perhaps it was something else entirely. For whatever reason, the comment made the Lieutenant tense up as he checked a fridge. He quickly commented saying there was no food in there, confirming an android was staying in the decrepit apartment. 

Though the Detective only scoffed and bounced on the balls of his feet upon hearing it. Hank noticed the stark contrast between the brothers when they worked together. The Lieutenant was quiet, he observed and took mental notes. He scanned the area and made multiple rounds to check the same thing from different angles. The Detective however, he seemed to flit around the scene sporadically. Almost erratically. Though he did pick up a small book from a hole in the wall and tossed it to Hank. It tried to read whatever was written inside, but it was encrypted. So heavily that it knew the DPD would take weeks to decrypt. It looked at the poster the hole was covered by. Agriculture related. There had to be the possibility an agricultural android stayed here. The Lieutenant chimed in with there being a box of birdseed, implying the android cared for animals. Hank watched him shudder as he set the box down. He muttered something about “fuckin’ birds” before going back to scanning the area. Detective Anderson’s voice came from across the room, calling Hank over specifically. Hank followed his voice to the bathroom. 

  
  


“Any idea what it means?” He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe. The Lieutenant poked his head in through the empty space and leaned half on his brother to get a better look at the wall.

“Ra9...written 2,471 times…” Hank could basically feel the pieces of information click together as it tilted it’s head toward the brothers. “It’s the same sign Ortiz’s android wrote on the shower wall… Why are they obsessed with this sign?”

“Looks like mazes or something...” Lieutenant Anderson shoved past his brother and pointed at the geometric design. He ultimately left the room and went to go check something else in the other room. 

  
  


Hank looked around the room some more, making sure it didn’t miss anything in particular. Not that it would, it was such a small space. The walls were basically moulding and there were feathers everywhere. But with the RK800’s advanced visual processors, it would be able to see nearly anything. It even had night vision protocols. However, it didn’t need them for the small circle of light sitting on the sink. An LED. Hank picked it up and scanned it. It knew it wouldn’t get much information from such a small piece of evidence in such a location. It practically spoke for itself. But maybe it could get a general timeframe for how long the deviant had been squatting there. 

**LED**

**Biocomponent #9301**

**Deactivated: 11/06/2038 - 11:36**

That barely gave it anything to work with. The pigeons were a sign that it had been there for a while, as well as the obsessive compulsive writing. Yet the deviant had only removed the LED earlier that day. However, Hank found something that would give a much better estimate of time. Given the initial report of a neighbour hearing strange noises, combined with the timing of the removal of the LED, and with the information Hank could get from the thirium in the sink; there was a good chance it would get a better time frame when it analysed the thirium. Hank poked it’s fingers into the blue liquid and touched it’s fingers to it’s tongue. 

**BLUE BLOOD**

**MODEL WB200 #847 004 961**

**Reported Missing - 10/11/2036**

So the deviant had been just that, a deviant, for presumably two years. There was the possibility it had been squatting in the apartment for a long time before starting to observe and care for the birds. The birds that seemed to like sitting on Hank’s shoulders. Much to it’s dismay. The birds unnerved the Lieutenant. Hank would like to avoid making the Lieutenant uncomfortable as much as it could. The whole ensuring he was safe and such. Hank found a small stool by the wall, overturned just like the chair in the Ortiz case. Beside it was a permanent marker, uncapped and still wet to the touch, it was used recently. Stepping back, Hank reconstructed the scene. The deviant heard the three of them come in. It got startled, knocking the stool over as it fell, and then ran into the living room. Hank left the bathroom, turning to see the Detective throw his fist in the air. He found a fake ID, so he deemed that they weren’t there for nothing. Hank continued to scan the area for whatever other clues it could find that would give away the deviant’s whereabouts. There _was_ an open window. But it highly doubted that the deviant jumped, at that height it’s biocomponents would be crushed under it’s own weight and it would “bleed out” on the pavement. 

  
  


“Real books…” Hank looked over to see the Lieutenant smiling down at a hardcover book he held in his hands. His expression was soft, sweet. Like he was thinking of a pleasant memory. “I thought I was the last guy in Detroit to keep some…”

“I have a few!” The Detective gently shoved him and grabbed the book from his hands. It made the Lieutenant grab for the book, a lighthearted frown on his face. Though it turned into a grimace when he saw his brother sniff at the book. Hank did suppose it was strange. “Electronic books you can’t...smell the paper…see the pages turning yellow...”

“Sorry Hank, you’ve got no idea what he’s talking about, do you?” Lieutenant Anderson shook his head and laughed gently. He grabbed the book again and put it back where he found it. “You just keep doing your thing, I’ll keep this weirdo from smelling any more weirdly placed books.”

  
  


Hank laughed as the Detective tried to reach for the book, his older brother tugging at the collar of his jacket to keep him away. It turned to see if it could find where the deviant went. Any clue, any sign. There was a turned over birdcage sitting on the floor. The metal hook was recently broken, and there were scuff marks on the bottom. It had “fingerprints” on it. Really, since there were no grooves to create minutiae patterns like in human fingertips, it was just a vaguely human hand shaped smudge. Hank stepped back again to reconstruct the scene. 

**SUSPECT RAN TOWARD ENTRANCE**

**SUSPECT HEARD US ENTER**

**SUSPECT IS STILL HERE**

Hank moved around the brothers to a hole in the ceiling. It put an arm out, gently pushing them behind it. The Lieutenant immediately put his firearm up in understanding. As Hank neared the chair that was under the hole, the deviant jumped out on top of it. The momentum from it falling knocked Hank over, the rotting wooden floorboards threatening to break beneath the two androids. In an instant, the deviant was up on it’s feet running out and down the hall. As was Hank. It ran down the hall, jumping over a rolling shelf cart. The Andersons followed after them both. They ran across rooftops, both covered in gardens and not. 

**EASY BUT SLOW ▪** **_FAST BUT RISKY_ **

**SAFER DETOUR ▪ FAST BUT RISKY ▪** **_BALANCED_ **

**SAFER DETOUR ▪** **_DIRECT BUT CROWDED_ **

**DIRECT BUT SLOW ▪** **_FAST BUT RISKY_ ** **▪ SAFER DETOUR**

**SAFE BUT SLOW ▪** **_DIRECT BUT CROWDED_ **

Hank bolted through a greenhouse area, jumping over tables and pushing androids out of the way. The deviant ran through a field of corn. Just tall and condensed enough that Hank couldn't see over or through the stalks. It put an arm out in front of it’s face to protect itself. Sure it wouldn’t get hurt like a human might, but being slowed down was not an option at the moment. Hank barely registered the snapping of corn stalks as it ran through them. It was mostly just focusing on the deviant. Mostly. As it emerged from the small field, it saw the Andersons trying to wrangle the deviant. 

It saw them put up a fight against the deviant. 

It saw them getting their asses handed to them. 

_Hank saw it try to throw Connor over the ledge._

He didn’t even scan the area, he immediately ran over to help Caleb pull his brother up from the ledge. He ignored the unreadable notification saying that something skyrocketed. Hank gently pushed Caleb out of the way. He blatantly ignored his protests and orders to stand down, and almost desperately grabbed at Connor’s hand and arm. Hank was almost afraid he was going to break his arm, it felt so thin. He was afraid that he would be too rough with Connor and hurt him. Once he was pulled up high enough, Hank grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him back to the rooftop. The poor kid was a shaking mess. He couldn’t stand by himself, opting to cling to Hank for support, before stumbling to his brother. Caleb scooped him up as his knees buckled. He gently set his brother down to sit, and Hank knelt beside them both. 

  
  


“Shit! Oh shit! Fuck!” Connor breathily swore as he shook and grabbed handfuls of his brother's shirt and jacket. “We had it! Fuck!”

“It’s my fault.” Hank was quick to make sure the young man didn’t blame himself. He didn’t know how Connor would react if he thought it was his doing. Frankly, Hank didn’t want to find out. “I should have been faster.”

“You’d have caught it if it weren’t for me…” Connor looked at Hank with...something in his eyes. Something Hank didn’t understand. “That’s alright. We know what it looks like. We’ll find it.”

  
  


Caleb helped Connor stand. Hank couldn’t help it, he joined them on Connor’s other side. He put an arm around the kid’s back and helped as best he could. Neither Hank nor Caleb said a damn thing when Connor sagged in their arms. Or when he leaned heavily into Hank’s side. Neither of them said a word when Connor suddenly lurched forward. They held him as the events caught up to him and he shuddered out a shaky half-scream. They set him back down on the ground, and Caleb hugged him. Sending a glare Hank’s way that said if he said anything he would take him apart and sell the pieces for scrap. Caleb pulled out his phone and started to scroll through it. Apparently Connor knew what he was doing, because he tried to grab it and toss it away from them both. Hank gently took his hand and brought it away from the phone. He nodded to Caleb once, and put his arms around Connor’s shoulders. He understood, and stood up to make a phone call. Hank could have tapped it. He was perfectly capable of listening in and figuring out who the younger twin was talking to. But he already had an idea. They _had_ spoken of their little brother being a nurse. He could probably give the two pointers on how to help Connor the best. 

  
  


“M’sorry…” Connor pressed his face into Hank’s shoulder and grabbed a handful of his coat. “If I wasn’t--”

“But you _were,_ and now you’re _safe._ ” Hank ran a hand through his dark curls and pressed his head further against his shoulder. “You’re _safe,_ Connor. You’re _okay,_ I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

  
  


Connor slumped against Hank’s side and pressed a shaky fist up to his mouth, trying to muffle the quiet scream as best he could. The sound still caught Caleb’s attention and he started talking faster into the phone. Hank continued to run his hands through Connor’s hair until his breathing had slowed. When he looked down, he saw the poor kid looking like he was about to pass out. Hank shot Caleb a text saying that he thought Connor should take the rest of the day off. He wouldn't see it until he was done speaking on the phone. But Hank didn’t want to speak for fear he would startle Connor. Once Caleb got off the phone and checked the text, he looked at Hank and nodded. 

  
  


_“Good idea. I’ll take him home. Where are you gonna go?”_

_“I’m not sure yet.”_

_“You can come back with us if you want.”_ Caleb blinked hard and rolled his eyes. _“Connor trusts you for whatever reason.”_

_“I think I’ll get a start on the paperwork for this case. It probably wouldn’t be easy for him to write about his near death experience.”_

_“Oh you’d be surprised.”_ Caleb let out a bitter chuckle and mimed firing a gun against his head. _“You haven’t had to pick up the pieces of him before. You’d be surprised at what he can walk away from.”_

_“Alright, I’ll take your word for it. I don’t think I want to know how many times you’ve had to ‘pick up the pieces’, Caleb.”_ He looked down at Connor. His breathing was shallow and even. Eyes closed and seemingly perfectly content to be asleep against Hanks’ chest. _“I’ll carry him to the car. You’ll have to get him into the house.”_

  
  


Hank stood up, holding Connor in his arms. He walked past Caleb to the stairwell. The truly surprising turn of events wasn’t that Hank had to add two things to his file labelled Lieutenant Connor Anderson. But it was that he actually openly said he _wanted_ something. As they made their way back to the car, Hank thought it over. Wanting wasn’t entirely a bad thing. It had saved his partner’s life. He wanted to make sure Connor was okay. Something pulled at his muscle relays before his programming could catch up. Almost like human instincts. He didn’t even _think_ about chasing the deviant. He went straight for Connor to make sure he was okay. Hank didn’t exactly understand why he reacted that way, but maybe Fowler would. Maybe he could ask him some time.

His Social Relations program showed him the notifications he had missed in the madness that was Connor almost falling off the roof. It showed him that his relationships had increased with the brothers again. 

**_LIEUTENANT ANDERSON: FRIEND_ **

**_DETECTIVE ANDERSON: WARM_ **

  
  
  
  



	7. I See You

_November 6th 2038 7:23 PM_

  
  


It was cloudy in the garden. Hank looked up at the clouds. It wasn’t like they blotted out the sun completely, they just made it a little darker than what he was used to. He stood still for a little bit. It wasn’t all that often he was able to just...watch the garden. Actually, he didn’t think he had ever really _looked_ at it. It was peaceful. Serene. Hank found that he liked it. From the trees that would say in the slight breeze, to the lily pads in the water, to the silly little model planes that Fowler had up on display in certain areas. 

In all honesty, Hank was pleasantly surprised to see that it wasn’t downpouring in the garden. The weather reflected how Fowler was feeling at any given time. Maybe he was proud of Hank for making sure Connor wasn’t hurt. But he would never know until he actually talked to the man. Hank waked through the garden slowly, he liked being able to take in the scenery. He could see Fowler standing under an awning. It looked like he was enjoying the garden, himself. As Hank made his way over to the man, he realised that Fowler was leaning against the metal structure the awning was attached to. He really was relaxing and watching the garden. 

  
  


“Hello, Jeffrey.”

“Hank, I’ve been expecting you. D’you mind a walk?” Hank shook his head and gestured toward one of the small bridges that was nearby. The pair walked slowly, leisurely. “So, that deviant. Seemed to be an...intriguing case. It’s a damn pity you didn’t grab the thing.”

**PRAGMATIC ▪ EXPLAIN ▪ NO EXCUSE**

  
  


“Deviants are completely irrational, which makes it difficult to anticipate their behaviour...but I should have been more effective.”

“Well, maybe it wasn’t a total loss.” Fowler patted Hank on the shoulder and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Did you learn anything?”

  
  


**DIARY ▪ SIGNS ON WALLS ▪ BIRDS**

  
  


“I found it’s diary, but it was encrypted. It may take weeks to decipher.” 

“Anything else?”

  
  


**SIGNS ON WALLS ▪ BIRDS**

“It was fascinated by birds. We’ve seen deviants interested in other lifeforms like insects or pets, but nothing like this.” Hank wrung his hands together and then used his right to scratch at the back of his neck. It seemed he picked up a habit from Connor. “The walls of the apartment were covered with drawings of labyrinths and other symbols. Like the other deviants, it seemed obsessed with Ra9.”

“You got so damn close to capturing that deviant…” There was silence. Hank knew why it was cloudy in the garden now. He knew why the weather just started to change and it began to drizzle. “How’s your relationship with the Lieutenant going?”

“He seemed grateful that I saved his life on the roof. He didn’t say anything, but he expressed it in his own way…”

“Hank, I know you care about the kid, trust me I do. He’s a good kid and I can see why he's growing on ya.” Fowler ran a hand down his face and sighed. They stopped walking and the light rain started to let up. “We don’t have a lot of time. Deviancy is spreading like wildfire, the media is gonna be all over this like flies to a body. We gotta stop it. Hell, whatever it takes at this point.”

  
  


Something about Fowler told Hank that they were on the same side of protecting the young Lieutenant. Fowler didn’t say anything about the unreadable notification and how it skyrocketed. He just kept looking into the distance, like an NPC who had gone through all their lines of dialogue. But Fowler was no NPC. He was an AI replication of Professor Jeffrey Fowler, Chloe Kamski’s teacher. Hank knew he could ask him about it. They were friends, he would tell him the truth. He would tell him everything. Any question Hank asked was a question Fowler could answer. He always had the answers. 

So when Fowler started walking back to his table with the B-2 Stealth plane still in the process of being built, Hank followed him. He didn’t say anything, he just offered him a seat to watch. For a while that was exactly what Hank did. He liked watching Fowler’s hands move like he had done it a million times. Like Chloe Kamski had walked into the classroom and caught him in the middle of a new project. Maybe he would look up at her from behind a magnifying glass and smile, telling her to come in and that he wasn’t terribly busy. Hank smiled to himself as he thought about what could have been. 

  
  


“Jeffrey?” He hummed back at Hank to let him know he was listening. “I keep seeing an unreadable notification in the upper right of my HUD. It always has an arrow. Do you know what that might mean?”

  
  


Fowler gawked at him. For a minute, Hank thought he wasn’t supposed to ask about it. The way Fowler’s eyes went wide and his jaw just a bit slack. But he cleared his throat and put down the tweezers he was using to put the plane together. He moved the plane to the side, setting his hands down on the table instead. Hank didn’t like this. He didn’t like the way Fowler was reacting to his question. But he already asked it. He had to deal with the answer. 

“That’s your software instability.” Fowler looked around slowly, as if there were someone who was listening. _CyberLife._ “It’s a red arrow, _right_?” 

  
  


The way he stressed it made Hank nod. Like he was covering for him about something. Hank didn’t want Fowler to get in trouble, but knew that CyberLife couldn’t do anything to him. Not really. He was an AI in Hank’s software, in his programming. He was there to help Hank with the investigation. Help Hank with whatever he might need during it. If Fowler thought it was best to cover for him...then it was best he covered for Hank. They were _friends_ for fuck’s sake. That was what friends did for each other. Sometimes they took the fall for each other. Did that stop Hank from wondering what might happen to Fowler if CyberLife found out he lied and Fowler covered it up? Hell no! Hank was pretty sure he would wonder about it until something actually happened. 

As he went back to building his model plane, Hank thought about stuff. He was glad he didn’t have a handler like Captain Stern. She was a bit daunting if Hank was to be honest. Frankly, the way she spoke to Connor that day, the ice and lack of emotion in her voice, seemed to be her on a good day. He wondered what her reaction might have been if he asked her about the software stability notifications. He wondered why Fowler stressed that the arrow should have been red. Was the blue arrow bad? Was Hank not following his orders correctly? Hank didn’t understand why Fowler seemed so shaken up by the arrow in the first place. Why it had to be red instead of blue. 

The answer hit Hank like a bullet to the chest.

His software was becoming _unstable._

_He was becoming deviant, himself._

_And he couldn't bring himself to care._

“Jeffrey, I believe I’m going to go back to the station.” Hank moved as calmly as he could, pushing the chair in as he stood. “See if we have any more cases to work out that are urgent.”

“Why don’t you go check on the kid? He might need you.” Fowler let a ghost of a smile play on his lips. A comforting thing. “Don’t worry, I’ll cover for you if anybody comes a-knockin’.”

  
  


Hank smiled and thanked him. His Social Relations program told him their relationship was now at Friends. It sent a warm feeling through his wires that he wanted to enjoy. But he felt almost...guilty. If Fowler got in trouble and was remotely taken out of his code... he wasn’t sure what he would do. He liked Fowler. They were friends. His program even said so, and it never lied. It seemed Fowler tried not to either. He didn't want to think about what might happen if CyberLife caught Fowler in a lie. It was obvious they were listening to their conversations if he looked around like that. If he stressed that the arrow had to be red like that. He didn’t want to know anything bad that might happen to his friend. So Hank walked back to the regular entrance spot for the garden and left. 

  
  


\---

  
  


_November 6th 2038 7:51 PM_

  
  


Hank stepped out of the taxi and to the sidewalk outside of Lieutenant Anderson’s home. Though instead of there only being one car in the driveway, there were two. Had his twin come to visit? Hank knocked on the door and called out for him a few times, asking to be let inside. When no one answered, Hank decided to try the doorbell. He rang a few times before huffing and grumbling about having a vintage doorbell despite not using it properly. He tried knocking again. This time there was an answer, a very disheveled and annoyed looking Detective Caleb Anderson answered the door. He sighed and said whatever it was could wait until tomorrow morning. A wet and sputtering cough came from inside the house. A wet cough that Hank had heard before from Lieutenant Anderson. One that implied he was sick. When Detective Anderson went to close the door, something inside Hank that he didn’t understand possessed him to slam a hand down on the wood and force it open. The Detective shouted a few obscenities before being pushed back so Hank could make his way inside. 

The house was modest, very fitting to the Lieutenant. The living room looked cozy with the light brown wallpaper and bookcases upon bookcases of real physical books. It was homey. Which was what Hank thought most homes should feel like. Though before he could get a good look at the kitchen, he was met with the sight of Connor twisted to hunch over the trash bin while sitting in a chair at the table. His breath was ragged, face blotchy and red, and looked like he was sick. Scratch that. He _was_ sick. He retched loudly, coughing up watery vomit into the plastic lined trash bin beside him. Hank quickly scanned the area, finding a nearly empty glass of cloudy water sitting in front of something on the counter. There was also an unidentifiable wetness at the edge of the table, but he wouldn’t be able to figure out what it was unless he tested the substance. Which would likely make the poor kid vomit again. In an instant, Hank was by his side. He gently brushed Connor’s curls back from his sweaty forehead and ran his other hand up and down his spine. Connor’s right hand, which was gripping the back of the chair so hard his knuckles were white, reached out and grabbed a handful of Hank’s jacket. He couldn’t help the soft words that left his lips. 

  
  


“Oh, son…”

  
  


Connor’s breath hitched and he started coughing again. He started to babble through the gasps and coughs, though Hank couldn’t entirely understand what he was saying. It… It sounded like he was _crying._ Hank looked back up to Caleb looking for an explanation, but all he found was a deep hurt in his eyes. What was the significance of that phrase to them both? Had their father not taken care of them like this? Before he could ask, Connor pulled himself upright and staggered away to a short hallway. The sound of shuffling, footsteps, a few more coughs, and then Connor weakly announcing he was getting in for a quick shower. Caleb sighed, making Hank look back at him and watch as he moved around to clean up the kitchen a little bit. His face scrunched up in disgust when he saw the unknown wetness on the edge of the table. Which Hank only now realised was also dripping onto the floor. He sighed gently and helped Caleb clean. 

  
  


“Detective Anderson--”

“Just Caleb is fine.”

“Alright...Caleb.” He grabbed a dish towel from the stove door and wiped at the surface of the table so Caleb wouldn’t have to. “Can you tell me what just happened? What’s in that glass?”

“You’re ‘the android sent by CyberLife’, you figure it out.” His voice was bitter. He threw paper towels into the bin and placed a few down to the floor to absorb the watery sick that was on the linoleum. 

  
  


Even though he didn’t have to listen to him, Hank decided he would. He picked up the glass and took a small sip of the liquid. Baking soda in water. A _lot_ of baking soda in water. He didn’t understand why Connor would willingly drink such an awful concoction. A quick scope through internet searches and he found himself on message boards asking about the best ways to induce vomiting. Baking soda in water wasn’t the preferred method but would apparently still work. So if it wasn’t the preferred method, then why was Connor inducing vomiting in the first place? He hadn’t shown any signs of being ill earlier in the day. Maybe it was food poisoning from that food truck. Though the resigned expression on Caleb's face told Hank otherwise. The fact that Connor only ate half of the sandwich he was given, that Hank felt just how small and thin he was when pulling him back on the roof. That information told him more than he wanted to know. He added two more notes to the file labelled Lieutenant Connor Anderson. 

**_Lieutenant Connor Anderson_ **

**_DOB: August 15th 2009_ **

**_AGE: 29_ **

**_CRIMINAL RECORD: None_ **

**_ADDRESS: 115 Michigan Drive, Detroit_ **

**_ADDITIONAL INFORMATION:_ **

  * **_Smoker_**


  * _**Asthmatic**_


  * _**Prone to nightmares**_


  * _**Insomniac**_


  * _**Dog owner (Sumo, Saint Bernard)**_


  * _**Anorexic**_


  * _**Bulimic**_



Hank eyed the revolver set down on the kitchen counter by the sink. It was in the middle of being loaded by the looks of it. A few bullets littered the floor, the box still half open on the counter. It only had one bullet in it. The sight and implications made Hank shudder. What was his poor kid feeling? Right beside the revolver was a photo of a little boy. Hank glanced back at Caleb. His brows were knitted together in concentration, or maybe it was frustration. Either way, it looked like he didn’t care if Hank took a look around the house. So he started to look around. The living room was already looked at, so he moved on to take a proper look around the kitchen. There was a set of dishes for a dog by the wall. The kitchen was very clean, unusually clean. Almost like it wasn’t used or like it had been deep cleaned that day. There was always _something_ left behind. Other than the cluster of coffee mugs in the sink, there was nothing. The implications were making Hank’s stress levels rise. Other than those...oddities, it was the typical kitchen. Hank then moved on to the picture beside the box of bullets, that he decided to clean up so Caleb wouldn’t think he was snooping too much. Hank’s heart skipped. He scanned the picture three more times before accepting the information as reality. 

**_Cole Anderson_ **

**_DOB: September 23rd 2029_ **

**_DOD: October 11th 2035_ **

**_AGE: 6_ **

**_ADDRESS: 115 Michigan Drive, Detroit_ **

Hank held the picture in his hands for a solid minute before Caleb picked it up and went into the other room with it. The stickers at Connor’s desk at the station, the little boy from the picture, the visceral reaction he had to children involved in cases, a dog, a modest house, piles upon piles of books. Hank started to put pieces together that he wished he never had to. The android followed Caleb back to where he was putting down the picture. Apparently it was supposed to live on the night table next to the bed, right beside a picture of Connor and his brothers, a picture of Connor and Cole with Sumo, and another copy of the picture of the whole family. Though Hank wondered where the boy’s mother was. Why was she not in the picture? Did she and Connor separate? Caleb snapped in front of Hank’s face and gestured down toward his legs. Why his legs, what wa-- Oh! Sumo was laying on the end of the bed. Hank smiled and patted the big dog on the head. He knew he liked dogs, but didn’t realise how pleasing it was to actually run his fingers through the fur. Caleb sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed and patted next to himself. Hank sat down with him, patting Sumo’s head when he put it in the android’s lap. 

  
  


“I’m sure you know now but… Connor lost his son three years ago. Right after he became a Lieutenant. The stress of everything hasn’t been easy for him.” Caleb’s eyes were far away as he spoke. Hank had never seen him this...soft. Caleb took a deep breath and glared into the void. No. Hank had never seen him this _sad._ “Connor...Connor blames himself. Even though it’s not his fault. The fucking idiot.”

“It’s survivor's guilt, not idiocy.” Something made Hank’s biocomponents feel like they were doing flips. Worry. He realised it was worry that made him feel that way. He wasn’t supposed to feel. He shoved the feeling down and continued to speak. “From the looks of it, you feel guilty, too. It’s not your fault either, Caleb.”

  
  


Caleb didn’t respond. He just glared at the ground as he stood up. Hank went to put his hand out to comfort the boy, but a red wall forbid him from doing so. That was understandable. He wasn’t his partner, he was Lieutenant Anderson’s. But that didn’t mean he didn’t still want to look out for the boy. Instead of reaching out to comfort him, Hank would just have to talk to him. Bring his stress levels back down that way. For once, he closed his Social Relations program. He didn’t want prompts. He didn’t want some half-baked premade words coming out of his mouth. He wanted the words to come from _him._

  
  


“Were you two close?”

“ _What_?”

“Were you and Cole close?” Hank stood up and gave a lopsided smile. “Were you the cool uncle that gave him something and said not to tell his father? Or were you the weirdly emotionally detached one that still tried to be there regardless?”

“Oh, I was the cool one.” Caleb laughed. _Hank made him laugh without using his Social Relations program._ He ignored the software instability going up. “So was Niles, but me? I was cooler. I gave the kid a knife.”

“I’m sure Connor and his mother were ecstatic.” Hank snorted out a little laugh to himself. But Caleb didn’t laugh. He looked...disturbed. “Caleb?”

“His mom--” The bathroom door opened, making Caleb cut himself off. Connor stepped out, still drying off his hair. “Listen, I’ll get you buckets of Blue Blood if you swear not to tell Gavin, okay?”

“Got it. Not that I need that much thirium.” Hank knew what he was doing. He was telling a white lie. Just like Fowler did for him. So Hank would take the fall if he needed to for Caleb. “But who would I be to look a gift horse in the mouth? You ready to go, Connor?”

“Yeah. Debrief me on the way?” 

“Of course.”

  
  


He looked so much better than he did before. His face was flushed from the heat of the steam, but it made him look more...alive. Hank patted Caleb on the shoulder and texted him to go home. He would handle looking after Connor tonight. When Caleb read it and then nodded, Hank smiled. He reactivated his Social Relations program, greeted by the sight of his and Caleb’s relationship increasing. He did like these two boys. They were good men. They just wanted to save lives and put the bad people behind bars. Sometimes it wasn’t always cut and dry. Sometimes it was muddy and the line blurred so much it was hard to see just where things were supposed to lie. But the Anderson twins were trying their damndest to help the city in the ways they could. Connor investigating homicides, and Caleb on the Red Ice Task Force with Detective Reed. Connor was trying his best. He just needed someone other than his brother to recognise it. Hank sighed and added three more notes to his folder for Connor. 

**_Lieutenant Connor Anderson_ **

**_DOB: August 15th 2009_ **

**_AGE: 29_ **

**_CRIMINAL RECORD: None_ **

**_ADDRESS: 115 Michigan Drive, Detroit_ **

**_ADDITIONAL INFORMATION:_ **

  * **_Smoker_**


  * _**Asthmatic**_


  * _**Prone to nightmares**_


  * _**Insomniac**_


  * _**Dog owner (Sumo, Saint Bernard)**_


  * _**Anorexic**_


  * _**Bulimic**_


  * _**Depressed**_


  * _**Suicidal tendencies**_


  * _**Father**_



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told myself this would be a little thing I'd work on between chapters of STATUS: MISSION PENDING and whoops it looks like I didn't. This was supposed to be updated weekly, but it's 3:07 AM and no one can stop me. Not sure when this is gonna update next. Probably soonish?


	8. Yes, I See You

_November 6th 2038 8:17 PM_

  
  


As Hank pulled up to the...club...he eyed Connor wearily. To say that he looked better would be the truth, absolutely. Though he did still look a little worse for wear. He still slumped in the passenger's seat, letting his breath fog up the glass and then drawing little shapes in it. Hank couldn’t help it, he wondered if maybe he had done that as a child. He wondered if he had shown Cole. Something pulled at Hank’s wires and made him shake his head as he turned off the engine. Connor had barely spoken on the way there. He only responded to questions directed toward the case, and even then they were as quick and as short as he could possibly make them. 

Hank knew feelings were a deviant thing. He knew that he was slowly becoming deviant. He should have cared, he should have objected and refused the facts. But the goddamn _worry_ that wormed its way into his chest and rooted into his thirium pump. It ached. Hank was worried about Connor. He was so fucking worried about him. As he unbuckled his seatbelt and sighed, as he got out of the car, as Hank joined him at the entrance, as Hank saw just how boney his hands were when handing him back his keys. He couldn’t _help_ it. He _felt._ But if he felt, then why wasn’t he deviant? Why didn’t he break his coding and become something else? It didn’t make sense. But then again, he had never deviated before. Who was he to say what it was like and what it wasn’t. 

The pair made their way into the club. Neon blue and magenta lights danced around on the tile floors. There was music with a heavy bass, making Hank almost hyper aware of the beating of his thirium pump. If it wasn’t because of being in a sex club, he might have found the sensation nice. But the slight grimace on Connor’s face brought him out of his thoughts. Hank immediately took note of how he would likely need to grab some painkillers for Connor later. With the state he was in and his history of migraines, he would at least have a pretty nasty headache after. 

Hank followed him through the entrance, Traci models lining the walls and watching them walk in. Hank...didn’t like the way they were watching the two. Realistically he knew why they did. If it weren’t for the policies of wiping rental sexual partner androids’ memories, Hank was fairly sure all of them would be deviant. The thought almost made him feel bad for being there. But they were investigating a murder. Hank didn’t have a choice. He was supposed to stop the deviancy crisis. 

Connor spoke with Officer Collins for a better debrief. Which honestly wasn’t any more detailed than what Hank told him in the car. But Connor nodded along anyway, seemingly taking in the information. Hank wandered around the main area watching the Tracis on display. They danced and twirled around, moving in provocative ways meant to allure humans. Hank didn’t see the appeal. He was about to go into another area when Connor called him back over. Apparently Detective Reed was already on the scene, he didn’t want the two of them actually talking. When Hank started to question him, Connor only sighed and held up a hand. He looked tired. He followed the young Lieutenant into the room. 

  
  


“Lieutenant Anderson and his plastic bear...The fuck are you two doin’ here?” There was no malice behind his words. Instead, he looked directly at Connor when he asked why they were there. He was concerned. Though he still crossed his arms and scoffed. 

“We’ve been assigned all cases involving androids.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, you’re wasting your time.” Detective Reed gestured toward his own neck and smirked. “Just some pervert who, uh, got more action than he could handle.”

  
  


He laughed. A quick and almost forced thing. Hank saw how he seemed to keep trying to look back at Connor without him noticing. If he didn’t know about the fact that he and Caleb used to have a... _thing,_ whatever that meant, he would have thought the Detective had a schoolboy’s crush on the Lieutenant. If he didn’t know that they had some sort of history that was still unknown to him at the moment. But it was still rather obvious something was there once. Whether it was romantic or platonic didn’t matter. Detective Reed still shot Connor a sideways glance every now and again as he started to look around. Surprisingly, Detective Reed and Officer Miller didn’t leave. Not immediately. 

Connor investigated the body first, then moved on to the broken Traci on the floor. His body went stiff and he immediately turned back to the body in the bed. Hank and Detective Reed watched him. Though Hank just wanted him to form his own thoughts on what happened before he came up with his own and they talked. But Reed… Reed watched him like a hawk. His arms crossed tightly across his chest and he moved around to make himself look busy. When Connor stopped looking as closely, he spoke.

  
  


“We’ll take it from here.”

“Chris, go get the car started up, it’s cold as tits outside.” A shuffle of feet and then Detective Reed’s voice lowering. “You doin’ okay, Con? Caleb said you had another brush with our good friend, lady death.”

“I’m fine, Gavin.”

“Connor, man, c’mon.”

“I’m _fine,_ Gavin.”

  
  


Detective Reed didn’t say anything else. He shrugged and walked out of the room, and then silence as the door closed. There was still the thrumming of the bass out in the main area. Though it was muffled enough for Hank to feel that Connor wouldn’t have too bad of a migraine later. Hank knelt down beside the broken Traci to keep his mind on the case. The deviancy case. Yes, the thing he was supposed to find the cause of and then get rid of. There was no guarantee the Traci was deviant, it was just broken. If he took a sample of the thirium from it he might be able to get a better idea of what happened. He poked it’s face gently to gather it on his fingertips, and touched them to his tongue. He was in the middle of analyzing it when he heard Connor cough. It wasn’t a bad cough. Not a wet one, rather. But it was just one that suggested he needed to clear his airways. 

**BLUE BLOOD**

**MODEL WR400**

**Serial number #429 671 942**

Nothing of significant importance. Just it’s model and serial number. Hank didn’t think much of it, really. It was just an android that happened to get broken. Though he’d be lying if he said it didn’t tug at his wires. It was built for one thing. It only had to do one thing. Then the humans who had created it also broke it. It was obvious that Connor didn’t want anything to do with the Traci. In fact, he had completely avoided it after he first saw it. Something about it reminded him of something else. It had to. Otherwise he wouldn’t react in such a way. Yes he would think it was unnerving to see a dead humanoid. But to look at it, and then dart away the second he saw it. That was...unusual. Especially for someone who had been on the force basically since he graduated high school. 

Hank touched the Traci’s LED, gently even though he didn’t have to, and ran a diagnostic. 

**SELECTOR #5402**

**CRITICALLY DAMAGED**

**BIOCOMPONENT #6970**

**CRITICALLY DAMAGED**

It was only critically damaged. Theoretically he could do a quick fix and see if he could turn it back on. There was no guarantee how long it would be though. Unless he reached inside and fiddled around with it’s biocomponents, he didn’t know how extensive the damage was. For the moment it might have just been better to wait. He needed more information. Hank stood up slowly and made his way past Connor to the body. Squatting down next to the bed, he analysed what he could. 

**GRAHAM, MICHAEL**

**Height: 6’ 2” - Weight: 194.2 lbs**

**Estimated time of death: 06:24 PM**

**CARDIAC ARREST**

**No sign of cardiac event**

**Heart attack not cause of death**

**SEVERE BRUISING**

**Signs of strangulation**

**Cause of death: Asphyxiation**

**VICTIM WAS STRANGLED**

  
  


“He didn’t die of a heart attack, he was strangled.”

“Yeah, I saw the bruising on the neck.” Connor rolled his shoulders and looked around the temperature settings and the small bar. “Doesn’t prove anything though. Could’ve been rough play.”

“We’re missing something here…”

“You--” Connor finally turned back toward the rest of the room, but still at an angle where he couldn’t see the Traci on the floor. “You think you can read her memory? Jump-start her maybe?”

“I...can try. I don’t know how long it will be for, though.”

  
  


Hank kneeled down next to her. He wasn’t even sure if it would actually work. His synthetic skin slipped away up to his wrist and he put his fingers down where a human would to take a pulse. It needed to be reactivated. Considering how Connor reacted to seeing it, Hank wasn’t sure how much he wanted to do that. But for the good of the case, both the homicide and the deviancy, he had to do it anyway.

  
  


“The only way to access it’s memory is to reactivate it.” Hank let his plastic shine in the light, he never really looked at it before. He never had a reason to. Instead of marveling at his own hand, he moved it to check the paneling on it's chassis. 

“Think you can do it?”

“It’s badly damaged.” Hank forced the Traci’s synthetic skin back and opened a panel, then reconnected a major thirium line.. “If I can, it’ll only be for a minute, maybe less. I just hope it’s long enough to learn something.”

  
  


The Traci jumped to life and skittered back like Hank was the one who damaged it. It was breathing heavy, androids didn’t need to breathe, it’s systems were so damaged it had to manually cool them. They really did have less than a minute to find out what happened. Hank kept a reasonable distance from the Traci, it looked scared. Like it didn’t know what was going on. Hank approached it slowly before kneeling down in front of it. The Traci looked at him like he was going to tear it apart. It...it looked at him like he was something to be scared of. He had to think of what to say quickly. They just barely had a minute and a half to talk to it, to get as much out of it as they possibly could. 

**EXPLAIN ▪ DIRECT ▪ SOOTHE**

  
  


“Calm down...everything’s alright.” Hank spoke to it the way he spoke to Connor during his panic attack, after he almost fell from the roof, when he found him sick in the kitchen. Softly, sincerely. He didn’t want to scare the Traci any more than it already was. “All we want is to know what happened.” 

“Is he dead?” 

  
  


**MURDERER ▪ FACTS**

There was no way Hank was going to jump the gun and accuse a crying android, who just got reactivated, of murder. It-- _She_ was _crying._ So she absolutely was a deviant, androids didn’t cry. They had their saline solution to lubricate and flush out particles from their eyes. But it never accumulated enough to be released in the form of tears. She was terrified. 

  
  


“Tell me what happened.” 

“He started...hitting me...again...and again. I begged him to stop, but he wouldn’t.” Her voice even cracked like a human’s would. Shit, Hank wasn’t sure how long either him or Connor would be able to handle listening to her talk about it. “It was like he was enjoying it.” 

  
  


The sick bastard. Getting his rocks off to hitting someone, _injuring_ them, _killing them._ Hank wanted to reach out and comfort her. But she just got roughed up so badly that she shut down because of a man. Instead, Hank leaned back a little to give her space. Hopefully it would make her a little more comfortable. Let her know that he wasn’t going to do anything to her. Other than try to figure out what happened to the man in the bed. He hated that he had to ask, but it was a murder investigation. 

  
  


“Did you kill him?”

“No...no, it wasn’t me.”

“Were you alone in the room?” His voice was kind, gentle. He needed her to know he wasn’t upset with her. No one was. They just wanted to know what happened. She wasn’t in trouble. “Was there anyone else with you?”

“He wanted to play with two girls. That’s what he said, there were two of us…” 

  
  


The Traci shut down. Connor cleared his throat in the background, and then put a hand on Hank’s shoulder. He didn’t even notice that his hands went to hers and held them. Hank let go of her hands like they had burned him, dropping them against her lap and then quickly stood up. Connor talked about going home, the Traci who might have killed him was long gone by now. No. No, Hank turned to face the Lieutenant, fully aware his LED was swirling red, and said he was going to find it. He would find it and they would get the other side of the story. Deviants weren’t easily detected. Hell, for whatever reason their trackers deactivated when they deviated. But Hank needed to find the other Traci that was in the room. He had to find the other deviant. 

They needed an eyewitness. Someone who would have seen the Traci leave the room. Hank roamed for a bit in the main area, trying to wrack his programming for an idea. _Any idea._ He circled around a few times before seeing the Traci in the pod, directly facing the door the deviant would have come out of. He gently tugged the Lieutenant away from the sleazy club owner and asked him to rent the Traci so he could probe it’s memory to see where the deviant went. Connor raised a brow, but then chuckled and said why not. He rented the Traci, and Hank started to follow the trail. All the way to a janitorial android near the warehouse. 

Connor drew his firearm and went through the door first. It was quiet, as expected to be. Which made it that much more difficult to find the deviant. It knew what it was doing, it knew how to blend in and hide. Hank _had_ to find it. He needed to do _something_ to further the deviancy case. It’s what he was repurposed for. He was a machine designed for a task. Hank followed Connor through the warehouse, stopping to investigate a few thirium spatters on the ground. It dipped it’s fingers into it and then touched them to it’s tongue. 

**BLUE BLOOD DROPLETS**

**MODEL WR400**

**Serial number #950 455 437**

It was _something_ to go off of at least. Theoretically, _logically,_ the blue-haired Traci would be leaking thirium. From the one in the room saying the deceased was hitting it, then it would make sense he would be hitting the other one. Couldn’t get his rocks off with the first one so move on to the next. It was sick and twisted, but it was a logical conclusion. Hank followed the thirium trail to a group of Tracis standing together in standby mode. In the group was the blue-haired Traci. Hank was going to grab it, but the one in front of it lunged at it. 

The Traci shoved it against a beam, the clanging alerting Lieutenant Anderson to the altercation. Hank could hear him shout for the Traci not to move, then a strained grunt, and something twitched inside the RK800’s program. It turned and went to throw the Traci to the ground. But it was smaller than the RK800. Smaller and lighter. It could easily evade it. The RK800 threw the deviant over a crate, sliding over it to try and land on top of the Traci, to pin it down to the ground and restrain it. Keep it on the damn ground. But it kicked, right at it’s feet, making the RK800 fall and land on it’s side on the floor. It got on top of it, flailing it’s arms at it’s face. The Traci was small, it was fast, but it was _weak._ Just as deviants were. The RK800 easily evaded it’s poor attempts at combat and threw it off of itself. The Traci landed on it’s back and skittered backward. _Just like the Traci from the room._ It wasn’t the Traci from the room. 

The RK800 kicked the Traci’s leg away as it tried to kick at it. They both stood, the Traci trying to slash at it with a screwdriver that was left laid on the floor. Careless. Whoever was android maintenance could have caused a workplace accident. The RK800 grabbed the Traci’s wrist as it went to stab it in the chest, and it pulled. It came stumbling forward, heels clattering against the cement, and it was put into a headlock. Despite the height difference, the Traci fought back by headbutting the RK800. A small warning flashed through it’s HUD. It was only a pressure warning, the fight was still on. _The hunt was still on._ It let go of the headlock, grabbing the Traci’s arm as it spun them both around, making the deviant drop the screwdriver to the floor. It was left forgotten as the Traci lunged at the RK800 again. Was it really that lacking in the AI department? Whoever programmed this specific Traci must have been having a bad day. Because it’s programs were _shit._

The RK800 backed up, knocking over one of the metal shelving units. The Traci stepped over it, kicking it’s foot against the tool box the RK800 rolled in front of itself. It grabbed a tablet and swung at the RK800’s head, causing it to reel backwards and reach or throw the nearby WR400 into it. It paused to catch it. _Stupid._ The RK800 grabbed it around the waist to shove it, making them both stumble as the Traci tried to fight back. _Weak._ The RK800 tumbled to the ground outside as the Traci dragged it down with it. 

It hit it’s head. _Hard._ The RK800 had to lay on the ground for a second to recalibrate it’s optical units and gyroscope. As it was forced to stare up into the rain, it saw the initial blue-haired Traci slide down and grab the brown-haired Traci’s hand. As they got ready to run, the Lieutenant grabbed at the second one, and the RK800 was getting back up on it’s feet. The two shoved Lieutenant Anderson, shoved it’s partner, hard enough against the wall that he grunted and simply sat there with wide eyes and struggling breaths. Heat spread in it’s wires. It didn’t know why, and frankly it didn’t care. It rose to it’s feet and chased after the deviants. They ran at the fence holding each other’s hands. Something sparked in the RK800’s processors. It ignored it. It grabbed the initial blue-haired Traci and threw it down to the ground. The other tried to jump it, but it was too fast. 

Silly little WR400s. Oh the poor dears. Trying to run away together only to have their fate decided the second they broke their programming. It tried to hit the RK800 in the head, but it was too slow. _Too slow, much too slow._ The RK800 slammed it against the wall. They both fought back, desperately, like their lives depended on it, like something catastrophic would happen if they didn’t. But they didn’t have lives to lose. They were machines. They were not alive. They tried to shove it against the wall, tried to pin it down so they could fight back and run away. They worked as a pair, always fluid and in tandem. Worked as a team. _A team._ _As partners._ In the scuffle it had somehow gotten on the ground with the blue-haired Traci. The other threw a trash can over the RK800. It was forced to roll over with the blow so as to not potentially damage it’s shoulder joint. _The Lieutenant’s discarded firearm was right there._ The RK800 grabbed it, ignoring the code in it’s head screaming that androids couldn’t use firearms. It pulled the gun on the brown-haired Traci and--

_And it was wrong._

_Androids didn’t use guns._

_The RK800 didn’t steal it’s partner’s firearm._

_Hank didn’t shoot unarmed victims._

The software instability notification showed it skyrocketing as he was kicked in the face. Hank let himself fall backwards. He deserved it. He was fighting them, he was trying to _kill_ them. He was hunting his _own kind._ He looked up from the pavement to the two Tracis. The blue-haired Traci spoke as he slowly rose to his feet. 

  
  


“When that man broke the other Traci...I knew I was next…” She didn’t want to fight. Her body language said she just wanted to be left alone. “I was so scared… I begged him to stop, but he wouldn’t… So I put my hands around his throat and I squeezed until he stopped moving. I didn’t mean to kill him. I just wanted to stay alive...get back to the one I love.”

  
  


Hank didn’t know how he ever could have tried to hunt them down. The other Traci grabbed her hand. Gently holding it in her own and standing by her side. It was...soft. Despite the freezing rain, the fact that Hank just tried to kill them both. Despite the fact that they had nowhere to go. Had no other option but to disappear. 

  
  


“I wanted her to hold me in her arms again...make me forget about the humans.” The Traci spat out the words. Like they were something vile, something to be sneered and thrown away. She looked at the Lieutenant as she spoke. It made something spark in his chassis. He didn’t like the way she was looking at his kid. “Their smell of sweat and their dirty words.”

“C’mon, let’s go.”

  
  


They both turned around and ran to scale the fence. The chainlinks rattled out into the night, mixing with the ambient sounds of the city. Hank looked back to Connor. He was okay for the most part. He was still slumped against the wall, his breathing a bit uneven, but he was conscious. His head lolled to the side and his arms were resting on his knees. But he was okay. The cold nor the rigorous activity made his asthma act up too badly it seemed. Connor watched Hank, his Social Relations program showed their relationship increasing exponentially. He stiffly walked over to his partner, crouching down and giving him his hand. Connor wheezed out a quiet little thanks and took it. Hank supported him as he helped him up, walking him back through the warehouse. Connor wheezed out a quick little sentence. One that made Hank question if what CyberLife was trying to make him do was right.

  
  


“It’s probably better this way…”

  
  


It probably was.

  
  
  
  



	9. I See You When You Hide

_ November 6th 8:58 PM _

  
  


Despite his efforts to take his keys back, the Lieutenant was in no condition to drive. He insisted he was alright. Despite the shakiness in his legs and the exhaustion in his voice. Lieutenant Connor Anderson was stubborn as all hell. But he didn’t exactly try to shove Hank away when he made him sit in the passenger's seat, nor when he buckled the man into the seat. No, Connor just went into his pockets and grabbed his pack of cigarettes and his lighter. When Hank closed the door, he used the hand crank to roll the window down and blow the smoke out of it. Hank sighed as he buckled himself in and started the ride back to the Lieutenant’s home. First thing’s first. Get him to eat  _ something. _ Second...second was to get him to sleep. Even if it was only for a few hours. He would still feel so much better after. Hell, Hank would sit with him if that was what it would take. 

The actual ride back to the house was very similar to the ride to the club. Very quiet and very uncomfortable. Connor smoked the whole way back to the house, inhaling nicotine and chemicals at an alarming pace. At one point Hank nearly pulled over because Connor got a coughing fit. The way his shoulders hunched in and he curled in on himself. The ever persistent coughing and hacking constricting his lungs, so much so that Hank thought he was going to make himself sick. But he forced himself to sit upright and took a few deep breaths to make himself breathe. Other than when Connor would get into smaller coughing fits, the car’s only sound from inside was from the playlist Connor had on. A pleasant sounding song came on, and Hank turned up the volume a bit. He thought maybe if he mirrored Connor’s habits the poor kid would calm down a bit more.  _ Oblivion _ by  _ Bastille. _ It might not have been the best idea, because Connor had a wistful smile on his face, a bitter and sad and broken little voice muttering the lyrics. 

Once they made it back, Hank basically had to half-carry the man inside. Nevermind. First thing was to get the revolver off the counter. Then get him in sweatpants in the very least. Then eat something, then sleep as much as his nightmares would allow. Hank smiled and greeted Sumo, letting him roam out the door and sit in the yard while he tried to get Connor to sit on the couch. He leaned against the back and watched Sumo through the door. Good, he was occupied. Hank swiftly removed the firearm from the counter, tucking it in his waistband. He could hide it somewhere in Connor’s closet when he went to grab him some comfy clothes. Caleb seemed to have moved or taken the box of bullets. Checking inside the chamber, there wasn’t even the one bullet that was previously loaded inside. Good, that was good. Connor didn’t need to have something like that around him. Next up, hide the firearm in the closet and get some nice comfy clothes to sleep in. 

Hank went down the small hallway and saw Connor’s bedroom. He rummaged around in the closet for a bit before finding a set of a grey DPD hoodie and sweatpants. That would suffice. He tucked the revolver into the very far back corner of the weirdly high shelf in a darker part of the closet that looked less used. Good enough for now. He carried the bundle of clothes under his arm. When he saw Connor, his wires felt like they were going to snap. He sat on the floor of the kitchen, bottle of scotch in one hand and the other covering his eyes. His mouth tugged down into somewhat of a frown and shoulders shaking. Hell, Hank was pretty sure he’d be drinking right now if he had those things happen to him today, too. Hank nudged Connor gently to get his attention. When his hand fell away, Hank just barely kept his hand from brushing his hair away from his forehead. Connor’s eyes were bloodshot and a little puffy. They shined with unshed tears, and he blinked hard when Hank explained he needed to get into something more comfortable. He didn’t even put up a fight. He thanked Hank for the clothes and stood up to get dressed. 

Sumo padded into the kitchen to them both. Hank had seen a few of Connor’s smiles at that point. But never once did he see a smile that was so utterly  _ broken.  _ He patted the dog’s head and shuffled into the bathroom, closing the door. Did the sound of the lock sliding into place cause Hank’s stress levels to increase dramatically? Absolutely. But he wasn’t about to bust down the door while the guy was changing. Instead, Hank tasked himself with closing and locking the front door. Then getting Sumo some nice fresh water, before looking through cabinets and the fridge to find something to make Connor. Hank frowned when he saw the state of the pantry. It was nearly completely bare. He did, however, have some peanut butter and potato bread in there. The fridge held some lunch meat that was just before the expiration date and a quarter gallon of whole milk. It wouldn’t be much, but it would be so much better than nothing. It would also have quite a bit of protein. That would help. Hank kept his audio processors locked onto the bathroom area, and was quite relieved to only hear the sounds of fabric shifting about. 

When Connor came out of the bathroom and saw Hank standing at the table, he flipped him off and tried to go back in the bathroom. Connor had long legs and was fast. Hank had long legs and was the most advanced prototype CyberLife had ever created. He scooped Connor up by his armpits and practically dragged him into the kitchen and sat him down in the chair. He crinkled his nose in distaste, then basically looked up at Hank as if to say he didn’t want to eat it. Well tough shit. Hank sat down in one of the other chairs and gently pushed the sandwich and glass of milk in his direction. It was only when Connor rolled his eyes and took a sip of the milk that one of them spoke since leaving the club. 

  
  


“You don’t have to eat all of it,” Hank’s voice was gentle and quiet. “I just want you to eat some of it. Hence why it’s--”

“Why it’s cut in half like a kid’s sandwich.” Connor took a bite of it and chewed for a while. Almost like he was deciding to spit it back out or not. Hank looked away as he took another sip of the milk and continued to eat for a minute or so. He wanted to give the kid his privacy. He obviously didn’t like to eat in front of others. “Why’re you doing this?”

“I don’t know.”

  
  


His Social Relations program said that made their relationship increase. It must have brought Connor some comfort to know that Hank was just acting instead of thinking about everything like a machine would. They went back to silence. Hank pet Sumo when he came into the kitchen to beg for parts of the sandwich. He was a good dog, but didn’t understand how much his owner probably did want to give it to him. Not just because of the whole dogs getting peanut butter stuck to the roof of their mouths thing. Though Hank did want to see that. He got up and grabbed a spoon from the silverware drawer, and scooped out a spoonful of peanut butter. He chuckled as Sumo followed him around the kitchen. He must have known it was for him. When Hank sat back down, Connor raised a brow and pointed the half eaten half to the spoon. He couldn’t help it. Hank snickered and held up a finger to tell him to wait. Then he stuck the spoon out low enough for Sumo to get to, and watched as the big slobbery baby licked up the peanut butter. Connor smiled and shook his head. He mumbled something about Sumo being spoiled rotten, and affectionately patted the dog with his foot. 

In all honesty, Hank didn’t know much about his own biocomponents. Which meant he didn’t know if he could properly laugh. But when he saw Sumo struggling to actually eat the peanut butter, he let out a loud and genuine guffaw. His biocomponents felt like they were jumping around in his chassis. The way his body moved and the way his voice module skipped with his thirium pump’s beat. His wires felt tought in his chest and sparked warmth that spread all the way to his fingertips. Happiness. That’s what it was. Hank was  _ happy. _ Happy as he watched Sumo eat peanut butter, as he sat directly across from Connor, as he felt like he was in a home that was well lived in. Connor stood up with the plate and set it down by the sink. Hank was still chuckling to himself as he watched Connor take out a sandwich box and stick the half inside. Maybe he should talk to the kid some more. 

  
  


“Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Jeez, what is it?” He had an annoyed edge to his tone. But Hank didn’t take any offence to it. He sounded tired too. Humans had less of a filter when they were tired, he might get an actual answer. 

“In the file of you CyberLife provided me, it said you were known for being Anti-Android. Yet you warmed up to me far too quickly for that to be the case. May I know what your actual stance is?”

“Okay this is a story.” Connor sat back down and took a sip of the milk before continuing on. “I was new to smoking, and I wanted to do it in a safe environment because of my asthma. Just in case y’know? Jimmy’s Bar is one of the only places in Detroit where you can smoke inside. Some press was following me around because the whole ‘youngest police lieutenant in Detroit history’, and got a few pictures of me going in, and now everybody thinks I’m Anti-Android.”

“Are you?” Hank raised a brow and gave a lopsided smile when Connor huffed. 

“M’not. I just don’t like new tech. I can barely change the settings on my own damn phone!”

  
  


They spoke for a little while longer in a contented lull during the night. Of Caleb and Gavin’s history, or Niles and his achievements as a nurse, Connor’s secret love of old pop songs. It became calm. Like they didn’t have a potential crisis on their hands. It was almost as if the world stood still and the only things left moving were two friends. Connor asked how the list of things Hank liked was going. Hank asked how irresistable Sumo was to pet as an answer. It was so simple and easy. To sit in the kitchen and talk. There was the distant sound of cars on the roads, Sumo’s breathing from his spot at Hank’s feet, the white noise of appliances humming. Somehow during all of it, Connor looked like he was about to pass out on the table. Three of three minor side missions complete. 

Connor didn’t protest much when Hank told him to get into bed. Once he was curled up under his blankets, Sumo faithfully laying in a way that would allow Connor to drape an arm over him, Hank turned off the lights. The dishes could wait until tomorrow morning anyway. As he sat down in the recliner he couldn’t help but wonder though. Hank went around the internet and looked up the name of one of the older pop artists Connor had mentioned and listened to a few of her songs. Britney Spears certainly did have quite a few...what were they called? Memes? She had a few memes about her. He fell into sleep mode while relaxed in the recliner. It was oddly human of him to do. Oddly natural.

  
  


\---

  
  


_ November 6th 11:23 PM _

  
  


“Hank?” 

“Hm?”

“Oh fuck, thank god.” Connor’s voice sounded desperate. It was late, why was he awake? Oh. Prone to nightmares. Right. “Hank, c’mon look at me please.”

  
  


He cracked his eyes open to see Connor standing over him with a worried expression on his face. Shaky hands that were messing with the sleeve of his hoodie, teary eyes, wavering and desperate voice. Nightmare. Connor absolutely had a nightmare. He shuffled his feet against the carpet and bit his bottom lip gently, looking away from Hank almost like he regretted waking him up. It was pitch black in the room by human standards. The only light being from the clock on the microwave and his own LED. It swirled yellow and cast a sunshine looking colour on the walls of the living room. 

Hank tucked his hair behind his ear to let more light cast across the room. At least it wasn’t some piss yellow colour. He gestured for Connor to sit on the couch, and surprisingly he did. Hank wanted to ask why he listened to him. Why he even bothered listening to the android when he was the human, when he was supposed to be the superior one. He lost himself in his thoughts as Connor turned on the television and put on some mind-numbing show. Reruns of an old cartoon from the mid 2000’s about a kid who could control the elements. Connor said something about how he and his brothers would get together once a year and rewatch the show in a week or so. While that was heartwarming, Hank couldn’t stop thinking about why Connor was awake.

Eventually Connor turned to face him, blueish light from the television exaggerating the shadows on his face. Making his cheeks look almost sunken in as well as his eyes. It highlighted his bouncy curls that stuck up every which way from his fitful sleep. Hank gave a lopsided smile and took his hair out of it’s little ponytail. There, now they both could be considered a little bit dishevelled. Though the action did nothing to really...make Connor turn back to the television to watch the show. Hank was about to ask him what was wrong, but he turned back around. He almost looked like he wanted to say something. Whatever it was died on his lips before he could even say it. Hank wanted to ask him what it was, wanted to see if it was anything he would open up about. But that wasn’t the way to open up. Connor would open up to him by himself in his own time. He wouldn't be prompted by Hank’s constant nagging and wondering if he’s alright. Well, hopefully he knew Hank wondered if he was alright, hopefully he knew that Hank cared a great deal about him. Otherwise he would have left the investigation and demanded a transfer of-- A transfer of ownership. Technically Connor was his temporary owner during the case. The thought was a bit unnerving and made his wires tense. If Connor wanted to tell him, he would, he had no issues with speaking his mind. That was for damn sure.

After an episode and a half of the show, Connor stood up. He muttered something about clothes and left the room. Curiously though, he didn’t turn the television off. Maybe he expected Hank to give it a try. If he and his brothers got together once a year to watch it, then it was likely a good show as well as a nostalgic one. Why not? Hank let himself get comfortable in the recliner and watched the rest of the episode. Though the way that one character spoke when they asked her what was going on. The almost robotic way she would say “There is no war in Ba Sing Se.” It was the same every time she said it. The same intonation, diction, tone of voice. Despite himself, Hank saw an android-like quality in her. She was made to be that way. Brainwashed by the local government. Forced to smile and tell the gaang nothing was wrong. Covering up a  _ war.  _ Despite how old the show was, there were quite a few parallels that could be made between the fictional world and their own. Hank was about to turn the television off himself when he saw Connor fully dressed in his regular clothes. 

He reached over the coffee table to grab the remote and turn the television off. He didn’t say anything, just looking back expectantly at Hank as he unlocked the door. Looks like they were going for a drive. Maybe it was what Connor did to cool down after a nightmare. Once in the car, Connor tossed the music player at Hank. He knew what Connor wanted. To test him. At the Eden Club, something had changed. Hank didn’t think of himself as he currently was. He almost reverted back to simply being the RK800. The machine designed with close range combat in mind, excelling in hand-to-hand and martial arts. He was fully prepared to tear those Tracis apart if it meant getting them back to CyberLife. The thought made him shrug to hide a small shudder, and he scrolled through the songs while Connor had the car idle. He must have preferred to drive with the music already on. A song he didn’t see before caught his eye, though it was mostly because it was titled with the breed of a dog.  _ Saint Bernard _ by  _ Lincoln. _ Connor shrugged and turned the radio up before pulling out of the driveway. 

To say Hank was...confused...about the song was an understatement. It went from barely any accompaniment to a heavily electronic buzzing, then back to nearly no sound, then back to the buzzing and strain on the vocals. It was a short and confusing song. But Connor quietly sang along to it before the shuffle play decided to put on some other older song. He didn’t smoke in the car this time. Much to Hank’s relief, he kept his pack of cigarettes and lighter in his coat’s pockets. From what he had seen of the young man’s smoking habits, it seemed to be stress related. It wasn’t unheard of for members of the police to have some sort of vice. Eventually the car came to a stop at some sort of...park. It had a beautiful view of the skyline and bridge, the city lights twinkling almost like stars in the night. Connor climbed out of the car, telling Hank he came here every once in a while to think, then told him he wouldn’t be long. He stood by the door for a moment, lighting a cigarette, and going to sit down on the visible bench. 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I know I spelled the word "gang" as "gaang" listen, Connor watches A:TLA because it's a good show and I couldn't pass up the opportunity to write the word again, it's been too damn long since I've done that


	10. And When You Lie, It's No Surprise

_November 7th 2038 1:19 AM_

  
  


Hank lingered in the car for a few minutes. For once he didn’t have any orders to obey or defy. Connor only told him he’d be back in a bit. Logically, it wouldn’t take too long so Hank could stay in the car. Though taking Connor into account...logic went through the window. It probably wouldn’t hurt to sit with him at least. He woke Hank up because of a nightmare he had, obviously trusting him enough to let him in during whatever this was. It was probably best not to question it too much at the moment. For the moment, Hank would spend time with him. Connor was sitting on the back of the bench, elbows on his knees, and feet planted on the actual seat. 

Hank turned off the music player and plunged the inside of the car into silence. It didn’t suit the car. He felt like it needed the sounds. From the heavy metal, to the indie, to the pop. Those sounds were what helped make the car Connor’s. Instead of dwelling on the music though, Hank unbuckled himself and exited the car. He put his hair back up in it’s little ponytail as he walked. Though he was slow, deliberate. He knew that Connor heard the car door open and close. But it would still do the kid some good to know exactly how far away Hank was even if he wasn’t looking. Hank came to a stop just beside the bench. It was quiet. Serene. The city splayed out before them like it was a painting. Beside him on the bench, Connor took a long drag and slowly blew out the smoke. 

  
  


“Nice view, huh?” One of his hands gestured out to the skyline. “I used to come here a lot before…”

**PERSONAL QUESTION ▪ STOP SMOKING ▪ BEFORE ▪ GO BACK**

Hank crossed his arms and looked down at Connor. There was a far away look in his eyes. Before whatever it was that caused the tension between himself, Detective Reed, and Caleb presumably. He desperately wanted to ask about it. Hank wanted to know what possibly could have crushed him more than his son’s death. Or maybe. Caleb and Reed had a _thing_ at one point, and Caleb was close with Cole. The thing that tore them apart that was out of their control. It was Cole’s death, wasn’t it? Frankly it was none of his business. But he just couldn’t help it. He had to know. An almost human curiosity overtook him and he chose to ask a personal question. 

“Can I ask you a personal question, Lieutenant?” 

“Do all androids ask so many personal questions or is it just you?”

  
  


**PHOTO ▪ SUICIDE**

He couldn’t do it. Hank couldn’t put him through that again. The half-assed glare Connor threw at him only made his thirium pump constrict. What would Connor think? How would he react? He had enough high stress situations in the last two days to last at least a few years. Talking about his son would only make his emotional state deteriorate. Though a common thought, an almost ritualistic habit, would be less likely to get such an emotional reaction. 

  
  


“Why are you so determined to kill yourself?”

“Some things, I just can’t forget. Whatever I do, they’re always there. Eatin’ away at me.” Connor pulled his half done cigarette from his lips and almost violently coughed into his other hand. For a few seconds Hank thought he might need the inhaler, but he stopped soon after. “I don’t have the guts to pull the trigger… So, I kill myself a little each day.” Connor took another drag of the cigarette and barked a bitter laugh. “That’s probably difficult for you to understand, huh, Hank? Nothin’ very rational about it.”

No, it wasn’t very rational. But neither was humanity. Humans were such fickle little things. Constantly changing and deeming what was right and wrong. That was what made it beautiful to Hank. The constant ebb and flow of humanity and it’s values, how it evolved and grew and changed. Nothing ever stayed the same, and wasn’t that something to enjoy? Always something new to see. Something new to taste. Something new to hear. Time was such a precious thing to them, _life_ was such a precious thing. So they celebrated every day and made their lives something worth fighting for. Something worth the time of stories and legends. 

Humans were such silly little things. So wrapped up in themselves that they almost didn’t see the rest of the world. But then there were the few who did. The artists, the musicians, the explorers. They were humanity. Just the same as the homicidal humans who gave the DPD their cases, the ones who created weapons of mass destruction, the ones who planned awful things to hurt others. Two sides of the same coin. The same homo sapien shaped coin. Nothing about humanity was rational, but that never stopped them from trying anyway.

**STOP SMOKING ▪ BEFORE ▪ GO BACK**

But fuck, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to know. Connor didn’t react badly to the inquiry of his determination to kill himself. Besides, his revolver was in the closet where he couldn’t get to it, he wasn’t in danger of hurting himself right now. Connor trusted him, his Social Relations program said so. More importantly, he showed it in his own way. The trust he put in Hank showed it. The roof, the kitchen, the living room after his nightmare. Maybe Connor would open up a little more about his son. Maybe he just needed a little nudge. 

“Before what?” Connor hummed as to show he didn’t exactly understand what Hank was saying. He asked again, though more specific. Maybe. Just maybe. “You said ‘I used to come here a lot before.’ Before what?”

“Before… Before nothin’.” 

  
  


It was worth a try he supposed. Connor didn’t exactly react negatively, and their relationship hadn’t changed. Hank walked out toward the railing, looking out toward the city. He leaned over and rested his arms on it. Casual would make Connor relax more. Hank clasped his hands together over the water, intertwining his fingers and messing with his hands as he thought. It was almost infuriating to be stuck in a place like that. A sort of limbo between leads and investigations. CyberLife would no doubt be very upset with him for neglecting his mission priority of capturing deviants to bring in and study. Would Fowler be happy with him though? He seemed to know exactly what was going on inside Hank’s head. Which meant he likely knew just how frustrated Hank felt. He sighed, almost frowning at the lack of vapor in front of his face. 

  
  


“We’re not making any progress on this investigation.” Despite Connor not being able to see, Hank gestured aimlessly toward the water. “The deviants have nothing in common. They’re all different models, produced at different times, in different places.” 

“Well, there must be some link.”

  
  


**RA9 ▪ SHOCK ▪ SYSTEMS ▪ SOFTWARE**

That was true. There _had_ to be some sort of link. From the years that some androids were reported missing, it didn’t just start happening overnight. But there weren't many options saying what it could be. There was the emotional shock standpoint. Trauma or feelings of injustice jump-starting their programming and making them go so fast their processors couldn't keep up. Confusing their systems and thus breaking their code. But there was also just the systems themselves. Hardware problems, biocomponents on the fritz, it wasn’t too bad of a theory other than the fact it was any model from anywhere. There was, of course, the bullshit option of saying their software reacted the way it did under only very specific conditions. Basically a fancy way of saying he had no fucking idea. Which Connor would no doubt call him out on. The Ra9 option was both the most logical, and the most likely to get Connor to engage more with the conversation rather than stare into the distance and smoke.

  
  


“What they have in common is this obsession with Ra9. It’s almost like some kind of…myth.” Hank stepped away from the handrail and turned to half face Connor. He moved his hands a bit as he spoke, not that they really helped convey what he was trying to say. “Something they invented that wasn’t a part of their original program.”

“Androids believing in God… Fuck, what’s this world comin’ to?” 

Connor pressed the butt of the cigarette into the heel of his shoe and sighed. He was somewhere else right now. Somewhere he probably still didn’t want to be. Hank nearly came over and pulled the pack of cigarettes from his hands as he pulled out another and lit it. But he still stood only half facing the Lieutenant. The only way he would get him to stop smoking right now would be to throw the package in the river. Which not only would be littering, but potentially dangerous to the environment. So Hank resigned himself to turning and clasping his hands behind his back. A few tentative steps, and Connor didn’t respond. He didn’t even look at Hank. His eyes were still outward. Unfocused. _Tired._ Hank needed to keep him engaged with the conversation. For a reason he didn’t understand, he needed to make sure Connor’s mind didn’t wander to less than stellar destinations. 

  
  


“You seem preoccupied, Lieutenant. Is it something to do with what happened back at the Eden Club?” 

“Those two girls...they just wanted to be together. They really seemed...in love.”

  
  


**RATIONAL ▪ DEVIANTS ▪ IRONIC ▪ COLD**

  
  


“Nothing in their program allows them to love or desire anything.” Hank sure as hell didn’t. His ‘wants’ were related to the case. And only the case. The reason why he was so hellbent on Connor’s wellbeing was because it was directly tied to the case. It had to be. _It had to be._ “They’re machines.” 

  
  


**_LIEUTENANT ANDERSON_ ** **ˇ**

Cold. Hank felt coldness wrap around his biocomponents and squeeze them. He wanted to throw his Social Relations program out of his systems. He never meant to hurt the kid. Well, Connor looked angry more than anything else at the moment. The way his brows furrowed and his breathing was deliberate and slow. Connor was angry, Hank made him angry. 

  
  


“You coulda shot those two girls, but you didn’t.” Connor stuck his cigarette into the corner of his mouth and stepped down from the bench. His shoulders tense, and voice chillingly level. He lurched forward and shoved Hank as hard as he could. He actually stumbled back a few steps. That was...unexpected. Hank had never seen him like this before. “Why didn’t you shoot, Hank? Hm? Some scruples suddenly enter into your program?”

  
  


**LIE ▪ TRUTH**

Fuck. _Fuck._ He didn’t know. He just held the gun in his hands and it felt too heavy. He didn’t like the sound of gunshots. The knowledge that he fucking _shot someone._ It was too much, he couldn’t. He couldn’t just take Connor’s gun while he was struggling to breathe sitting against a wall. He saw the way those girls held each other’s hands like it would end the world if they didn’t. He saw how they immediately went to each other’s side. _How could he shoot after all that?_

  
  


“No. I just decided not to shoot...that’s all.” 

  
  


Their relationship went back up. His software instability went up again, too. At this point he stopped caring about it. Connor probably thought that was it. He just decided not to shoot the two Tracis. Not the fact that Hank’s programs ran themselves in circles the second he picked up the gun. Not that his hands were shaking just thinking about what he could have done. Connor still stood in front of Hank, one hand in his pocket and the other taking his cigarette between his fingers every now and again. 

“What about you, Hank?” Connor took a drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke in Hank’s face, much like when they first met. “You look human, you sound human, but what are you really?” 

  
  


**COLD ▪ AGGRESSIVE ▪ DEFENSIVE ▪ NEUTRAL**

  
  


“I’m whatever you want me to be, Lieutenant. Your partner...your buddy to smoke with...or just a machine. Designed to accomplish a task.” 

  
  


Their relationship increased again. Fuck, he really did just need someone to acknowledge that he was _trying._ That despite everything that had happened to him and his family, he was still here and still doing what he could. He was just a man. He was someone's son, someone’s brother, someone’s father. Connor just fucking needed someone there for him. Someone who _wanted_ to be there for him and would tell him that. He just needed someone who wouldn’t get sick of him, someone new who would just fucking sit down and talk to him. That...that was why he took to Hank so easily, wasn’t it? Androids did as they were told. Yet Hank didn’t. He actively showed interest in Connor, and that took him by surprise enough that he was letting himself trust Hank. 

  
  


“Nothin’ else matters to you but your goddamn investigation, huh?” Connor circled around Hank. Cigarette hanging from his lips and bouncing with each word. “No doubts, no mistakes, no weaknesses… Human being, just like me...only perfect.”

  
  


**DEFENSIVE ▪ CYNICAL ▪ UNDERSTANDING ▪ NEUTRAL**

  
  


“I’m sorry, but...I don’t see what you’re getting at.” 

  
  


He really didn't. Of course he cared about the case, about the mission from CyberLife. But his friendships mattered. Fowler was willing to take the fall for him if need be. If CyberLife found out that his software was becoming unstable, he was ready to be punished in Hank’s stead. Caleb was his friend now as well. They both had a common ground in caring about Connor. He was entertained by Hank and how he spoke, the fact that he put up with their brotherly shit. Then Connor… Hell, Hank didn’t know why but he wanted to make sure he was okay. At first it was solely because that was what the mission required. But he got attached to the quirky son of a bitch, what would he say? His stupid little wheezy laugh, the way he made fun of his brother like it was the easiest thing in the world, his sense of morality. 

But the man standing before him on the sidewalk was...someone else. His eyes were dark. Not the dark brown that stared into your soul and weighed it’s worth. No these eyes were dark with malice, with hatred. But not hatred toward Hank. A hatred toward himself. Connor’s arm twisted around himself under his jacket, and he paused his movements. He looked down at the ground and laughed. It was forced. Forced and rough and _tired._ When he looked back up at Hank, his arm swung up. Connor’s hand was level with Hank’s head, and in it; his revolver. He grinned. It was a bitter and forced thing, one that wavered and threatened to break as tears swam in his eyes and shined in the bright fluorescent lamps. Like it was the only thing keeping him from breaking down then and there on the sidewalk. His finger edged closer to the trigger as he adjusted his stance. He spoke, and god damn did it hurt Hank to hear how hurt and broken he sounded.

  
  


“But are you afraid to die, Hank?”

  
  


**YES ▪ NO ▪ NOT ALIVE ▪ LOGICAL**

  
  


“I would certainly find it regrettable to be...interrupted...before I can finish this investigation.”

  
  


_S̷̛̭͇͍̖͇͌́̓̉̏̂̀̀̇̍͒͜o̵̡̧̢̧̩͈̭͖͓͚̩̖͊̋͂̈́̎̕͘͜f̸̧̮̥̠̫͚̖̱̙͓̹̤͙̪̭̩͑̍̈́̀̈̄̈́̐t̴̢̟̳̟̠̫̖̲͕̥̜͎͉̉͒͒̈́͒̈̍͊͛̅͘͜͝w̸̨͉͍̹͍̎͆͒̇̉̽͛͋̃͋̕ą̴̼̤̻̤̩̯̭̖̐̃̌̀͋̓̍̑͘͘͝r̶̢̡͙̍̎̇̅̎̌̔͋̆̌̔̕e̸͚͖͖͇̿̇̋̿̊̔̋͝͝ ̸͚̫͑̉̃̈́̈́̇͜͝Ĭ̴̡̘̭̩̰̌̄̌̾̃̐̆̔̀͒̅ͅn̷͚̦͋̿̋͋̋̈́͐̍̃̓͘͠s̵̨̡̮̮̪̱͉̼͓̻̲̹̣̖̗̤͝t̷̨̧̼͍̥̳͎̓͗̾͋̿͛̄̚͝ą̶̨̺̯̼̭̘͂͆͒͌̓̃̿͝b̸̰̜͕̤̈́͌͗̂̋̓̕i̴͎̣̣̩͕̘̙͖̽̾͊̂̔̃͌̍̃͒̿̉̾̓̓͘͜͝l̴̢̢̡̬̜̗̩͉͇̻͙͖̗͎͖̊ͅi̴͍͛͛̔͊͝ţ̴͓̋̒͌̐̽̕y̵̛͉͕̘̜̬͙̐̊̾̃̌̾̈́̅̓̈́ ̸̡̼̯͉̯̥͂͑͆̔̐̚_ **៱**

  
  


“What’ll happen if I pull this trigger? Hm?” The tears finally fell. Connor’s shoulders shook and he adjusted his grip on the firearm. “Nothing? Oblivion? Android heaven?”

  
  


**DEFY ▪ CONNOR’S ANGER ▪ IRONIC ▪ NOTHING**

  
  


“I doubt there’s a heaven for androids.”

  
  


He didn’t know. He wanted to hope but he didn’t _know._

  
  


“Having existential doubts, Hank? Sure you're not going deviant, too?” 

  
  


_He honestly had no idea at this point._

  
  


“I self-test regularly. I know what I am, and what I am not.”

Connor dropped the gun like it burned him, collapsing into a heap on the pavement. He was a shaking and crying mess. He shoved the revolver away from him like it might get up and attack him. Folding in on himself, he started to shake and sob. He sounded like he was in so much _pain._ Hank didn’t...he wasn't programmed for this. He wasn’t programmed to help people like a PL600 or KL900. He didn’t know what to do. His Social Relations program told him to leave, to let Connor sort himself out. He closed it. He didn’t need to know how much their relationship might deteriorate when he did this. He didn’t _want_ to know. 

Hank crouched down on the ground and put a hand on Connor’s back. He almost violently flinched away from his hand. Straightening out and cursing at him. He skittered backwards and stared at Hank. Just like that Traci did in the room. But he didn't stare at Hank like she did. He almost had a _want_ in his eyes. He wanted the comfort but was too caught up in hating himself to ask for it. He thought he deserved the pain he got, and that broke Hank’s heart. So he reached out for the young Lieutenant and pulled him forward by the lapels of his jacket. Connor froze. He was so still that it would have been easy to mistake him for a dead body were it not for his breathing. Then he fought Hank. He tried to push his hands away, tried to pry his hands off of his jacket, cursed and kicked and punched. Until he dissolved into a puddle of sobs and pleas to let him die. 

He couldn’t help the pained sound that left his voice module as he pulled Connor to his chest. He held him like he did on that rooftop. One arm keeping Connor’s head pressed against his shoulder, using his other hand to card his fingers through the mess of bedhead curls. The dam broke. Connor clung to Hank for dear life, grabbing handfuls of his jacket and sobbing into his neck. Panicking and spiraling into a deep place that Hank never knew existed. His breaths were quick and shallow, they were pained and cut off by his cries. His breathing was already suffering because of his fear, from his emotional state affecting his physical one. But it hit all at once. His breaths were wheezy and short, quickly turning into desperate gasps. He almost sounded like he was choking. Between the tears and the asthma attack, he sounded like he was dying. 

Hank held him in one arm, he didn’t want to know what would happen if he let go. He didn’t want to know how Connor would react to the one thing grounding him leaving him. Leaving him behind while he felt like he was dying. Hank found the rescue inhaler in his inner pocket and uncapped it with one hand. Connor reached for it, that meant he was aware of his surroundings. Or maybe it wasn’t like the alley, maybe he was hyper aware of where he was and what was going on around him. They _were_ at a children’s playground-- _They were at a children’s playground, and he said he used to come here a lot before._ Hank steadied Connor’s hand as he took the inhaler twice. Each time breathing in a few seconds and holding it a few more. As Connor’s airways opened, he started to ramble to Hank about Cole.

Hank did suppose that he wanted to know what happened.

_But he wasn’t prepared for what he was told._

What Hank could piece together from Connor’s post-panic rambling was...muddy at best. But apparently Cole was left on Connor’s doorstep with a note saying his name and birthday. Connor wouldn’t have found him if it weren’t for Sumo barking until he woke up to investigate what was making the dog so rowdy. He had been a part of the force for nearly two years, and brought the infant to the station because he didn’t know what else to do. The police were able to track down his mother to a Red Ice drug den. But she was already dead, murder through a lethal dose of Red Ice. From then on, Connor promised himself to take care of the kid. He was only twenty and realistically never should have taken him in. He was just a kid himself. But fuck if he wasn’t already in love with the little thing when he first grabbed at Connor’s curls and face. So he adopted him. He brought the infant home after getting his clean bill of health. Caleb, Niles, and Gavin all helping him set up what he would need for Cole. For six years it was good. For six years they were a _family._

Then the crash happened. It was a Thursday night, and Connor had to run Cole over to Gavin’s for the night. He was called in to a Red Ice case despite not being on the narcotics division anymore. He accepted only because they were at a complete loss as to what they could do. He knew Gavin wasn’t on call that night and was about to drop him off with his stuff he would need for school the next day. But a truck hit a sheet of ice and crashed into their automated car. It flipped onto it’s roof and went skidding down the road. Connor tried his best to pull Cole toward himself, knowing fully well that those damn automated cars used statistics to decide who it saved. Despite his best efforts, his son was bleeding out in the road. Connor called Gavin, who in turn called ambulances and others on the force. Connor needed a few stitches and a cast for his broken arm, but Cole… Cole needed emergency surgery. An android had to do it because a human was too high on Red Ice to operate. Cole died on the table. With a shaking and in shock Connor being held by his brothers and Gavin. 

  
  


“Son…” Hank ran his fingers through Connor’s hair and hugged him close. Fuck. He didn’t know how he didn’t turn deviant and start crying then and there. “It’s not your fault. It was never your fault.”

“You don’t know that. You weren’t even fuckin’ made yet.”

“You loved him, you would never let him get hurt if you could help it.” Hank gently pushed Connor away from himself to look him in the eyes. They were red and puffy, cheeks flushed from the force from his cries, eyelashes still clumped together from his tears. The redness in his face only made the bags under his eyes stand out more. “Connor. I know for a fact that you _never_ meant any harm to come to him.”

“No, Hank, you don’t.” Connor rubbed at his face, roughly scrubbing at his eyes with his sleeve. “You never had a family. You never will. You don’t know _shit._ ”

  
  


Not in the traditional way. But the family Connor and Cole built wasn’t traditional either. He wasn’t his. Not initially. He came from someone else, had no connection to Connor. But Connor became who Cole needed. A parent. Someone to love him and hold him when he cried, someone to cherish every smile and laugh, someone to stand by him and support his decisions. It was clear why Hank was so affected by Connor’s emotional state beyond the Social Relations program. 

Connor needed someone to love him, and Hank already did. 

Maybe he could be what Connor needed. 

Hank saw Connor as his son. 

When Hank turned back on his Social Relations program, he was greeted by a notification saying his relationship with Connor had skyrocketed. As well as another software instability skyrocketing. 

  
  


_**CONNOR ANDERSON: FAMILY** _

  
  
  
  



	11. I See You When You Run

_ November 7th 2038 2:18 AM _

  
  


Hank didn’t tell Connor about the notification from his Social Relations program. Why would he? He wouldn’t even need to. It went both ways. Hank knew that Connor saw him as family even if he didn’t say it. Which made it go without saying that Connor knew. Nothing needed to be said, they just sat together in the cold. Only when Connor looked like he was vibrating he was shivering so hard did they go back to the house. Connor’s discarded cigarettes tossed into the nearby trash, the two wordlessly climbing into the car to go home. Hank fiddled around with the music player when they got into the car. The only thing he could find that wasn’t metal or something...sad...was a song by Britney Spears. Fuck it, he’d put that on. The second “It’s Britney, bitch” came through the speakers, Connor let out a short little snort laugh. 

The ride home was another quiet one. But not like earlier to and from the Eden Club, with a stagnant and tense atmosphere. This one was relaxed. Exhausted; but relaxed. Connor went through the music player and put on some silly little song with superheroes singing about being friends. It wasn’t like the others. Connor didn’t explain why he put the song on. He didn’t have to. He just rambled at Hank about his son, and the songs that didn’t exactly fit in with the others in the playlist made sense. They were songs that Connor had that Cole liked. It was why he only turned down the volume instead of skipping them when they were going to the Ortiz crime scene. Because he couldn’t bring himself to. They were little pieces of his son, little ghosts of memories that let him reminisce. 

Sumo greeted them at the door, lazily sniffing at them both before going to lay down on his bed near the television. Hank found himself thinking it was homey almost. It was quite somber, knowing that there was another door somewhere in that house that led to a child’s empty bedroom. But...it was still a home. With a man who had been a father, and family dog who was one of the sweetest things Hank had seen. Connor announced he was getting into bed to see if he would get at least a few hours in before work. Hank wanted to argue that it wasn’t the best idea to go in after what had happened to him in the last few days but… Ultimately it was Connor’s decision. So Hank smiled and told him goodnight. He’d step in when he knew for a fact there was no way he could function. Hank hated it. Not being able to speak his mind and being a victim to his programming. His mission was his priority. He didn’t want it to be. But however CyberLife created him alerted him to how unstable his software was. Hank could only assume it was a way to keep tabs on it in order to prevent deviation. 

Before Connor actually went to bed, he skidded back out into the living room half dressed. He pointed to the television and said Hank could do whatever he wanted while he waited. Connor rummaged around one of the cabinets in the television stand and brought out a gamecube, grinning as he pulled out a few games that were for the system.  _ The Legend of Zelda: Wind Waker, The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess, Pokémon XD: Gale of Darkness,  _ and  _ Luigi’s Mansion. _ Connor basically vibrated when picking up the last one, saying he and his brothers used to try and use the vacuum on each other all the time when the third game came out. Hank had no idea what he was talking about but smiled anyway. He figured he’d give that one a try first. Connor started to explain certain things about the game as he set up the old game system. It was an odd thing, appropriately named because it was a cube, though Hank wondered why it had a handle. Why would it need a handle if it was a home console? What were people doing in the early 2000’s? He decided he didn’t need to know, Connor was excited about it and that was more than enough for him to go rummaging around in the box of games Connor had. One caught his eye, it was called  _ Animal Crossing, _ and it looked like the player made friends with little anthropomorphic animals.  _ He needed to play this one. _

  
  


“Personally, I like the fact that there’s an unused fuckin’ monster thing that you can replace Toad with. It’s called an Elh and that’s creepy. It’s a neat little--”

“Connor.” Hank held up the game case and pointed at it. “I need to play this one. You make friends with little animals. Are there dogs? I want to make friends with dogs.”

“Huh? Yeah, there’s dogs.” Connor sat cross legged on the floor and grabbed the case from Hank’s hands to put it in the system. “I haven’t played this since…”

  
  


_ Since Cole. _ It went without saying. The way he slightly hunched over and almost didn’t want to stick the unusually small disc into the system. But his hands moved delicately and precisely. Probably something left over from when he and Cole would play it, showing his son how to be gentle with the old game. Hank sat down on the floor with him. Though he didn’t expect it to be such a fucking struggle. He was bulky and heavy, and it was hard to maneuver in a small space. But he managed to sit the same way as Connor and held the case to read the back. Connor hummed along to the system booting up, making a loud and amused noise when the cube dropped into place. It was...nice. Refreshing almost. To see him so relaxed and happy. 

Connor opened his save file from before, and his first reaction was to smile. He went on to explain that Cole had picked the villager’s outfit. Hank watched Connor play for a while. Realistically he should have told him to go to bed, but the melancholy smile on his face kept Hank from saying anything. Connor had his favourite villagers and his disliked ones, he liked Blathers and Bob quite a bit. Eventually he handed Hank the controller and told him to give it a try. He went around collecting fruit and talking to the villagers that were walking around at that hour. Which he thought it was absurd that they were, the in-game time was synced with real time. Hank discovered he quite liked to pass the time fishing and was fond of talking to Peewee and Ed. 

Eventually he had noticed something pressing up against him. In the glow of the television, Hank looked over to see Connor asleep on his shoulder. Hank looked over to Sumo and signed that his owner was a menace. He paused the game and went to go shake Connor awake. But fuck, he was actually asleep and he didn’t seem to be uncomfortable or having a nightmare. Sighing, Hank resumed the game. The music sounded a little tinny because it was from such an old system, but it seemed to help keep Connor calm while he slept. It might’ve been the best sleep he’d gotten in a while if the bags under his eyes were anything to go off of. So Hank struggled to take his coat off without alerting the sleeping Lieutenant, and then put it over him to the best of his one-armed ability. Hank continued to play  _ Animal Crossing _ until he eventually did all he could at the early hour and went into stasis. 

  
  


\---

  
  


_ November 7th 2038 10:34 AM _

  
  


“You’re a sentimental bastard.” Connor patted Hank’s shoulders as he rested the jacket back on him. “You sure you’re not deviant or some shit?”

“I told you last night, I self-test regularly, Connor.”

  
  


Connor hummed in response and settled into the couch with a coffee mug and some toast. Hank sat up straighter at the sight of it and then put his coat back on. At least he was eating something, even if it was just some toast. Hank was delighted to see that Connor seemed to get an alright amount of sleep. Despite what happened the previous night, Connor seemed to be doing well. Which, Hank knew, probably meant that things weren’t entirely alright. But Connor trusted him. If he wanted to talk about anything, he would. So Hank booted up the gamecube again and played  _ Animal Crossing _ while Connor ate and watched him play. Though eventually he did need to change into actual work clothes. Which he half-heartedly cursed about when Hank reminded him of the time. 

Connor drove on the way to work, making comments on whatever song Hank decided to put on. He usually responded positively to the choices. Though Connor did once crinkle up his nose when Hank opened YouTube to play music he didn’t have. Oddly enough, Connor didn’t say anything about it. He just said he was glad Hank started finding things he liked. Which only encouraged Hank to explore more music and develop his own likes and dislikes on the matter. The ride was nice that morning. Connor coming in at an acceptable time was welcomed by his brother and Detective Reed as well. Reed seemed to be relieved when he saw the Lieutenant, though he did squint when he saw Hank. Well, even small improvements were progress. The brothers spoke for a little while. Hank wanted to greet Detective Reed and wish him a good day, but his programming forbade it. The red wall came up again and Hank just rolled his eyes. How was telling someone to have a good day getting in the way of his mission? He instead sat down at his desk and went right to work. 

Case file after case file, folder after folder, making physical files into digital ones to file away instead. It was tedious. It was boring. It was  _ slow. _ He wasn’t made to be idle like that. To sit at a desk and toil away at a keyboard that he didn’t even need because he could just interface with the damn terminal. After a few hours of all that nothing, Hank got up to walk around a bit. Not that Connor noticed, he was vigorously typing away at a report he hadn’t finished before. As Hank stood, he noticed Caleb and Detective Reed both looking like they were about to pass the hell out. He had picked up on the slight sleep deprivation in Reed when they first met. Though it seemed to be worse right now. Since Caleb looked like he was ready to use his arms as a pillow, Hank decided to make them coffee. Though he...didn’t know how they liked it. He nudged Connor gently to get his attention, whispering about the coffee. 

  
  


“Careful, if you make it good then Gavin’s gonna ask you to make his coffee all the time.” Connor chuckled to himself and whispered back. “Caleb likes a splash of creamer with about half a teaspoon of sugar. Gav likes it basically half milk because he’s a vanilla bitch.”

  
  


Hank nodded and made his way to the break room. Sitting at one of the tables was Officer Chen, the one who told him where he initially could find Connor. He smiled at her as he entered and got the cups ready. There was already coffee in the pot, which must have been because of her. Hank wanted to strike up a friendly conversation so he could thank her for directions to the Lieutenant, but at every attempt she just scrolled through her phone slower. Maybe she just didn’t like androids. He decided it wasn’t really worth it if she wouldn't listen, and exited the break room with the two cups of coffee in his hands. He set them down in front of their respective recipients and waited. Caleb immediately thanked him and took the cup in his hands to blow on the hot drink. Detective Reed however, squinted at him again as he took a sip of the drink. Nearly making Hank reach forward to wrench it out of his hands, he was going to burn his goddamn esophagus if he wasn’t careful. But Reed slowly nodded and said it was good. Hank smiled and patted his shoulder to show his thanks. It was slow, but it was a start. 

As Hank sat back down, he got a message from Connor’s terminal. He looked to the Lieutenant with a blank expression. He could have just said something to him. But he was biting his lip, looking like he was trying his best to keep in his laughter. Hank figured he’d indulge the kid. The message was a picture of a cat looking like it was frowning, the attached text was from Connor saying that it was Hank as a cat. Hank proceeded to look back at him and frown. He looked nothing like the feline. However, Connor seemed so devoted to the thought that he burst into a fit of giggles when he saw Hank’s expression. Hank just rolled his eyes and went back to his terminal. He took note of Connor’s apparent enjoyment of memes and then realized why Bob was one of his favourite villagers. Hank squinted at his terminal in realization and queued up a video response for the possibility of the Lieutenant asking him for assistance. 

They continued to work, Hank reminding Connor to take a break every now and again, before Connor’s watch beeped. It startled him out of his work and he looked down at it as if it had insulted him. It was actually rather amusing. He started to gather the papers strewn about his desk and organise them, a slight scowl on his face as he checked his watch again. Hank was about to ask what was wrong with it, but Connor spoke up as he tapped the papers on the desk to even them out. 

  
  


“Alright, let’s go home.”

“Home?” Hank parroted. Why was he saying they were both going ‘home’? It was his house, Hank had only stayed the night. “You mean we’re going to  _ your _ home, Lieutenant.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.” Connor snapped with his hand outstretched at his brother, and then hastily signed they were going home. Caleb gave him a thumbs up before going back to work. “Let’s go, Robo-Pop.”

  
  


Well, they were technically done for the day. They didn’t have anything else to do and there were no new leads for cases they were working. The AX400 hadn’t been seen since yesterday. Fuck, was it really just yesterday that they saw her? Shit it really was. Hank ran a hand down his face and let it settle at the back of his neck.  _ Something Connor did.  _ He quickly stuffed his hands in his pockets.  _ Something the twins did. _ Hank settled for letting his arms rest at his sides and followed Connor out of the precinct. The air was cold, the skies seemed to be partly cloudy. Hank thought that maybe it would snow. He wondered if Connor liked snow, or if it might serve as a grim reminder to his son. After all, most children thought of snow as one of the most magical things in the world. 

As Hank climbed into the car, Connor handed him the music player. Maybe this was just what they did now. Whoever was driving would have the other one play music. It was...nice to think about. That they had their own thing. Hank scrolled through Connor’s playlist and decided on  _ I Don’t Give A… _ by  _ MISSIO. _ Connor grinned and sang along, saying without words that he approved of Hank’s choice. Hank wouldn’t say it, but he loved picking songs that made Connor smile and sing along. It was nice to see him smiling so much. When it got to the rap part, Hank grinned as Connor went along with it. This kid actually had quite the set of lungs on him despite the asthma. He was animated and excited. It was something Hank absolutely welcomed more than the other things he had seen from him the night before. The rest of the ride was much of the same, Hank putting on songs experimentally to see which ones Connor knew enough of to sing along to. There was no real pattern to it, it was very sporadic and random. Though the best one was Connor basically screeching “It’s Britney, bitch” at the top of his lungs. Which made Hank nearly jump out of his synthetic skin. Though before they got too close to the house, Hank spotted a small convenience store. He practically smacked Connor’s shoulder until he listened to him and pulled into the parking lot. 

  
  


“What the hell?” Connor pulled up to a gas pump and shut the car off. “What’s in there that you can’t get from CyberLife?”

“You’ll see. Just wait outside and let me go in.” 

  
  


Hank exited the car and walked into the store. The cashier was some kid, looked like they were in their late teens. Poor thing looked so bored. Hank gave them a smile as he picked up a basket and went perusing the aisles. Hank got a loaf of bread, some stuff for sandwiches, and a few snack foods that weren’t too sugary. And if he were to buy a tiny little dog keychain, no one could say anything because it was his money he was given by CyberLife. He tried to strike up a conversation with the cashier, but man were they not having it. Ultimately he decided not to push it. They were probably just tired and bored. He grabbed the paper bag and wished them a good day, before exiting the store and getting back in the car. 

  
  


“What’d ya buy?” Connor fiddled with his lighter and tried to peek in the bag. “Anything for me in there?”

“Yes, actually.” Hank noticed how his expression fell slightly. Maybe he was uncomfortable with people buying things for him. He reached inside and picked up the little dog keychain. “But I also got this for me! It’s cute and-- I don’t have anything to put this on.”

“Don’t worry,” Connor snickered as Hank put on his seatbelt and then proceeded to drive back to the house. To drive home. “With how often you’ve driven my car in the last few days, these are your keys too at this point. If you want to you can put it on my keys.”

  
  


Hank agreed that it would be a good idea and then picked another song.  _ Africa _ by  _ TOTO, _ which seemed to wake up some slumbering beast from Connor’s chest as he basically vibrated in his seat. Jesus this kid was weird when Hank got to know him. Which he was glad he did. Hank loved this side of Connor, the smiling and purposeful shitty singing side. He liked to see more from his kid. Maybe they could play more  _ Animal Crossing _ when they got home. 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Android!Hank absolutely has some of regular Connor's innocence and you can't tell me otherwise. He got one of those obnoxious keychains where you press the button and it lights up and makes noise
> 
> Fun Fact: Despite being quite asthmatic myself I can do the rap part at the end of I Don't Give A... which honestly makes me feel powerful. I don't know about you guys but I think it's very sexy of me to have shitty lungs but still be able to rap


	12. From The Light Within Your Eyes

_November 8th 2038 4:06 PM_

  
  


The garden was sunny, and it looked like it was golden hour. Sunlight filtering through the trees and falling on the ground in beautiful spots. It highlighted the grass and bounced off the white walkways. It was beautiful. Hank would have loved to show Connor the memory if he could. Over by the center island, was Fowler leaning against one of the smaller trees. He waved Hank over and motioned to a small boat. How peculiar. Hank didn’t recall Fowler saying anything about enjoying boats, but maybe it just hadn’t come up in conversation yet. Hank took his time walking to the boat and Fowler. 

  
  


“Hey, Hank.” Fowler climbed into the boat and sat down on one end. He gestured to the other side with the oars, and Hank stepped into it himself. “Thought you might want a slight change of scenery.”

  
  


Hank pushed off of the island and started to row. Passing under a small bridge, Fowler finally spoke. Though he had a look in his eye that told Hank not to speak. One that unsettled him and made him almost shrink back in his seat. That wasn’t...normal. Fowler always had such a relaxed expression. Sometimes it was rather annoyed, or concentrated. But never at Hank. He had never looked at him with something that commanded such respect. 

  
  


“This place is growing on me, I gotta say. Everything is so calm and peaceful. So far away from the noise of the world… Tell me, Hank, what’ve you discovered?” 

  
  


**CONNOR ▪ EDEN CLUB**

  
  


“I found two deviants at the Eden Club. I hoped to learn something but...they managed to escape.” 

  
  


Hank fiddled with his sleeve and looked away during the entire explanation. He knew it wasn’t what Fowler wanted to hear, he knew if he said it out loud Fowler couldn’t protect him. That CyberLife might be listening and they would know that their Deviant Hunter was starting to lack in the whole hunting department. Hank kept his head down until he rowed the boat again. Even then, he couldn’t bring himself to meet his handler’s eyes. He felt like a child being scolded for misbehaving. One that knew they had been caught doing something they shouldn’t have and was going to get punished. As he moved the oars back down he almost kept his head up. Then with almost shame in his systems; he hung it again. 

  
  


“That’s too bad. You seemed so close to stopping them.” A beat of silence. Hank could practically hear the gears grinding in Fowler’s head. Trying to come up with a way to defend him to CyberLife. “You seem...lost, Hank. Lost and perturbed.”

  
  


**SINCERE ▪ DETERMINED ▪ COLD ▪ TROUBLED**

  
  


“I thought I knew what I had to do...but now I realize it’s not that simple.”

“You had your gun trained on those deviants at the Eden Club.” A pause. “Why didn’t you shoot?”

  
  


**TOO FAR ▪ NO USE ▪ TRUTH**

  
  


“I don’t know.” He finally looked back up at Fowler and said it a little louder this time. With a little more conviction. “I don’t know.”

“If your investigation doesn’t bring progress soon, I may have to replace you, Hank.”

  
  


He sounded...upset. He really did care about Hank, didn’t he? They really were friends. Fowler had his back, and Hank had his. When all of this deviant shit was over, Hank hoped he’d stay around so they could still be friends. 

**CONFLICTED ▪ CONFIDENT ▪ INDIFFERENT**

  
  


“I understand.” 

  
  


He didn’t. He didn’t understand, he knew Fowler wanted him to stay on the investigation. He didn’t understand why he was saying these things to him. Hank knew Jeffrey was his _friend._ He knew that the AI didn’t want anything bad to happen to him, he even all but explicitly stated that he would take the fall when Hank asked about the software instability. Which had just gone up again. He didn’t know what was going on. And that terrified him. 

Thunder boomed overhead and Fowler looked around. Perturbed in his own way as he glanced back at Hank. A solemn expression on his face and a sigh coming from him. He looked...resigned. Like he knew that there was nothing else they could do. Nothing else they could say. Hank almost feared for his safety. The way Fowler was acting was unusual. CyberLife started to really listen in on their meetings, didn’t they? They wanted Hank to end the deviancy crisis so badly that they basically wiretapped him with Fowler, _through_ Fowler. That was why he was acting the way he was. To let Hank know they were listening. 

  
  


“Something’s happening… Something serious.” As the boat came full circle, Fowler grabbed Hank’s arm to prevent him from stepping out. “Hurry, Hank. Time is running out.”

  
  


\---

  
  


Hank opened his eyes to see his hands moving on their own. He wasn’t aware that he could still function as an android whilst in the zen garden with Fowler. An interesting concept to say the least. However, he didn’t move as he flicked the quarter from hand to hand, making it spin atop his fingertips. Rolling it across his knuckles, he looked up at the floor numbers scrolling past on the screen above the door. They were...really high up from the looks of it. Hank dropped his quarter while lost in thought and crouched to pick it back up. It was one of his only belongings aside from himself and his clothes; a bicentennial quarter. A whole batch of special quarters was made in 1976 to commemorate the 200th anniversary of the United States, thus making the bicentennial. Hank quite liked it actually. It was a neat little thing. Though as he stood back up from getting it, he noticed Connor giving him a look. Not a bad one. Just one that said he was confused and interested in what Hank had been doing with it. 

  
  


“That’s actually really cool, why do you do that?”

“It’s to fine-tune my calibration. With being such an advanced model, as well as a prototype, CyberLife thought it best to keep testing my motor skills to ensure I was functioning properly.”

“So,” Connor crossed his arms and gave a lopsided smirk. “You do it when you’re bored.”

“I do it when I’m bored.”

  
  


Hank squared his shoulders as the doors opened, and Officer Miller greeted Connor. They talked for a bit, it was mostly Connor complaining, and Chris mentioned something about the Feds. Hank followed behind Connor as he walked into the main area, Chris debriefing them on the way. Hank could overhear people talking about not yet checking the roof. He subtly set checking the roof as a mission objective and continued to listen in. Apparently the deviants had attacked two guards, yet they let one of the station employees get away. Hank was already forming his own theory on the matter. Though until he reviewed the area he would need to slow his processes and listen to Officer Miller. The deviants also seemed to use the roof, with the use of parachutes, as their escape route. An odd choice, but not completely ineffective apparently. Hank glanced around, listening in to different conversations and trying to put the data together. It was a lot of snippets of processes and theories as to what was going on. 

He lingered in the doorway to look up at the camera. The deviants were caught on CCTV and likely weren’t identified yet because of how many hours the police would have to comb through. Connor looked back to him, and Hank swiftly strode up by his side once more. On the screen in front of them was an android without it’s synthetic skin. Heterochromia Iridum. He had two different coloured eyes. One was a dark brown, the other was a vibrant blue. Hank was called to attention by Chris referring to Connor as his title rather than his name. 

  
  


“Oh, Lieutenant, this is Special Agent Perkins from the FBI.” The man turned at the mention of his name. Hank couldn’t help but notice this man was a bit...off. Maybe because he was FBI. “Lieutenant Anderson is in charge of investigating for Detroit Police.”

“What’s that?” Perkins said it as more of a command to tell him. He looked Hank up and down, seemingly analysing him. He didn’t like it. 

“My name is Hank. I’m the Android sent by CyberLife.”

“Androids investigating androids, huh?” Perkins’ voice was almost grating to his audio processors. He nodded in Hank’s direction while looking at Connor. “You sure you want an android hanging around? After everything that happened?”

  
  


Hank could practically sense the anger in Connor at that comment. He squared his shoulders and crossed his arms, standing with his feet just a little bit further apart. Hank almost desperately wanted to put a hand on his shoulder. Tell his kid to stand down, everything was fine. But he was a machine. No matter how deviant he was becoming, he was still just a goddamn machine. He shut up and did as he was told. He stood near humans, not next to them. So Hank gently bit his tongue with his molars and waited for someone else to speak. Preferably Officer Miller because Connor was more likely to start something nasty with Perkins. Though he existed to be disappointed it seemed, Perkins opened his god forsaken mouth again. 

  
  


“Whatever, the FBI will take over the investigation, you’ll soon be off the case.”

“Pleasure meeting you. Have a nice day.” Connor basically cut the man off. It was obvious that he didn't care for him either. He gave the agent a halfhearted wave and went to turn around. 

“And you watch your step. Don’t fuck up my crime scene.” 

  
  


Perkins turned to leave. Once he was out of the room, Connor took out his pack of cigarettes and tilted it toward Chris. Who simply shrugged and muttered “go for it.” Hank didn’t understand. Then he did. Connor took out one of the cigarettes and lit it, taking a deep breath of the chemicals and nicotine. _He was fucking up the crime scene._ Hank couldn’t help the little snort laugh that escaped him. Connor was a little shit. He blew out smoke toward the ceiling and his shoulders relaxed a moment before tensing up again. 

  
  


“What a fuckin’ prick!”

  
  


Connor was almost seething. He was very devoted to his family, it seemed. It made sense with the way he and Caleb spoke of Niles’ accomplishments. As well as the way he commanded his brother to stay behind him when checking out the deviant’s pigeon filled apartment. So it made sense that when Hank was insulted, Connor was upset and ready to tear Perkins a new one. Connor nodded as Chris told him he’d be nearby if they needed anything. Hank set a heavy hand on his shoulder and squeezed it gently. The young Lieutenant sighed and nodded, saying Hank could go off to do his own thing. Though before he could move, Connor grabbed his arm. It reminded him of the urgency in Fowler’s body language, the intensity, the _need_ that he listened. Connor told Hank to come get him if he was going to the roof, he wanted to be there in case anything happened. Hank smiled as he muttered something about “fuckin’ FBI dipshits” and turned to seemingly look over the scene himself. Though he didn’t seem to stray too far. Maybe because he didn’t trust Perkins around Hank. Regardless, it was an interesting detail about him. Sticking close despite not really needing to. 

Hank turned around to the control panel and decided to check the CCTV first. Only two of them wore uniforms of utility androids. One of them touched the panel to ask for admittance into the room, and they were let in. Curious. The deviants didn’t break in. _Someone let them in._ Hank started to talk to Chris about it, mentioning the cameras in the hall. It made no sense. Why didn’t anyone stop them? Even Connor knew something was amiss, he made his way back beside Hank and crossed his arms. They both looked up at the screen showing the android without it’s synthetic skin for a moment. Connor looked like he wanted to say something. But instead he just took another drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke toward the ceiling. 

Hank leaned back from the panel and swiveled the chair he had moved aside to gain access to it. _ANDROID_ was written across it in big bold letters. One of them had to be deviant. Though before he did anything, Hank wanted to check the roof. Not only because one of the FBI personnel said they hadn’t yet, but also because it would be a better place for Connor to smoke. As he made his way over to the door he saw the bullet holes in the wall. There was a spray of thirium on the wall as well. Hank brought his fingertips to it and then to his tongue. 

**FRESH BLUE BLOOD**

**Model: PL600**

**Reported missing: 02/16/2036**

Why the hell was a PL600 aiding in what could be deemed as an android revolution? Hank looked back to the screen with the android on it. Maybe they could play the message to see it. He and Connor were out for his lunch break at the time of the initial broadcast. Which made Hank ecstatic to know he was at least trying to eat a little bit. But he could think about how proud of Connor he was later, right now they had a case to solve. There was no way Hank was going to let the FBI take it away from him and Connor without a fight. As he passed by him, Hank pointed out the screen and walked over. Connor seemed to understand and followed him. Hank interfaced with the control panel to play the clip.

  
  


_“We ask that you recognize our dignity, our hopes, and our rights. Together, we can live in peace and build a better future, for humans and androids.This message is the hope of a people. You gave us life. And now the time has come for you to give us freedom.”_

“Think that’s Ra9?” Connor bounced on his heels slightly and blew smoke at the screens.

“Deviants say Ra9 will set them free.” Hank gently tugged the cigarette out from Connor’s lips and put it out against the palm of his hand. He could damage the equipment if he wasn’t careful. “This android seems to have this objective.”

  
  


Connor scowled a bit and grabbed another from his packet of cigarettes and lit it. Though as it rested between his lips, he took Hank’s hand in his own to check the palm. It was alright, it wasn’t like he was damaged. The synthetic skin wasn’t too happy but Hank would live. It took temperatures of much higher degrees to even put a dent in his plastic. But the way Connor’s brows furrowed and he ran a thumb over where the ashes sat. Worry. Connor was worried about Hank despite knowing fully well he couldn’t feel pain. It was...nice...to have someone look at him like that. Care for his well being. Hank pulled his hand away and told Connor he needed to scan the face of the android, see what he could come up with. 

**OPTICAL UNIT**

**#8087q - BLUE IRIS**

**SPARE PART**

**PUPIL REFLECTION**

**Recorded at 13:59:54**

**Deviant had accomplices**

**RK-SERIES PROTOTYPE RK200**

**Registered as ‘Leo’**

**Gift from Chloe Kamski to Markus Manfred**

  
  


“D’you see somethin’?”

“I identified it’s model and serial number.”

“Anything else I should know?”

“No.” Hank responded a little too quickly. Connor squinted at him slightly before backing off. “Nothing.”

  
  


He wasn’t the only RK Series model out there. Hank was...confused. He didn’t understand it. He was told he was special, one of a kind, there was no other machine like him. He was told that the RK800 line was unique, that there never was another, and never would be, like him. So who was this RK200? This... _Leo_? Why had Miss Kamski gifted him to Mister Manfred? Something had to be going on, Hank couldn’t think of anything else. CyberLife suddenly keeping him under close watch. This other RK Series model running around starting an android uprising. They had to be connected. Though running his programming in circles wasn’t going to help the investigation. Hank shook his head and gently grabbed Connor by the upper arm and requested they go to the roof. 

They climbed the staircase, Connor leading the way up. As Hank shut the door he scanned it. There were bullet holes in the wall nearest the doorway to the roof, which meant the security staff would have tailed the deviants to the roof. However, there were no other signs of thirium other than in a puddle at the bottom of a structure. The scan revealed the lock had been hacked. One of the deviants jammed it. Hank’s eyes swept the area, finding three sets of footprints, a discarded duffel bag, and smudges of thirium in certain places. He checked the duffel bag first seeing as it was the closest. Hank knelt down in front of it, Connor walking up before kneeling on the other side. 

  
  


“How’d they manage to smuggle in a big bag like that?”

“They didn’t.” Hank glanced at him before looking back down at the bag. “Someone brought it in for them.”

“Oh, that’s strange…” Connor pointed to the parachute still in the bag. Three sets of footprints but four parachutes? The thirium left on the ground. “They planned a perfect operation but got the number of parachutes wrong.”

“Unless…” The two looked back at the puddle of thirium. “One of the deviants was left behind.”

  
  


Hank stood and motioned for Connor to follow him as he tracked the trail of thirium smudges. They led to an air cooler, and Hank opened the door. A PL600 shot at them both, Hank yelling for Connor to get down and shielding his body with his own. A shootout began as Hank dragged Connor behind a structure. He hastily checked Connor over for any wounds, muttering to himself about heart rates and blood circulation in relation to adrenaline. Hank didn’t know what fear was. But he imagined it was something like this. It curled up in his chest and pulled at his wires, threatened to squeeze his thirium pump until it burst, it was cold and unforgiving. Hank held Connor’s face in his hands, and only then did he see the utter _terror_ written in it. He said something but Hank didn’t hear it. The gunshots drowned out any noise that wasn’t just as loud as it. 

Some...sort of _instinct_ drove Hank forward. Something pulling at his muscle relays before the rest of his programming could catch up. He had to neutralize the target. They needed that PL600 for the deviancy case. Hank dodged a bullet. If they could get it to calm down and talk, then it would be a godsend. Hank was initially made for negotiation and police assistance. He could do it. He needed to calm down that PL600. Hell, he’d lie to the damn thing if that was what it took to get it to stop. Hank dodged a bullet flying his way and then realized why he was moving. He shoved the thought down and focused on capturing the deviant. They needed the PL600 alive. If it was still alive then they could question it. They needed the information. They needed the resource and lead to the revolution. They needed to know what the deviants were planning. Yet, as Hank dodged another bullet, he nearly stopped in place as he let himself realize just why he was moving before his systems caught up with him. 

_Hank needed Connor alive more._

He leapt over the structure protecting the deviant and forced an interface, pinning the PL600 against the air cooler. A...memory...played through the interface. _Jericho_ was painted on a rusty piece of metal. White against blue, with orange and brown spotted around in random patterns. The something...something that took him over and locked up his joints. It made his optical units sting and a cold gripped and clawed at him from the inside like it was fighting to get out. Like it would tear him apart from the inside just so it could be released. The cold spiraled up his chest and neck, settling behind his optical units and making them feel like the wires behind them would snap from the extreme frigid temperature. Then bright white. Then heat. Then nothing. 

Hank staggered back from the PL600, clinging to the structure that had previously given it cover. He watched as the deviant slumped to the ground in a heap. _Dead._ Hank could only stare at the body. He...he felt it’s fear. He felt it _die._ The PL600 was scared and only wanted to protect that... _Jericho._ Whatever it was. Hank barely registered Connor running up to him, grabbing at his shoulders and arms. Not until he forced Hank’s face towards him. _Fuck._ He looked so close to tears. 

  
  


“Hank! Hank are you okay?!” Connor tried gently slapping Hank’s cheeks. It only made him slightly more aware of his surroundings. “Hank!”

“...Okay…”

“Are you hurt?” Connor patted him again, seemingly checking for injuries. 

“I’m okay...” 

  
  


It was a lie. Hank was _scared._ He had never been scared before. He had felt something similar, or maybe not as potent, but he had never been _scared_ before. He didn’t like it. Was this what humans felt? It was awful. The way things twisted around inside of him, how something fought to be let out of his chassis. How his optical units stung and felt like they would freeze right out of his head or something. Hank managed to look back up at Connor. There was that look again. The completely and utterly _terrified_ look. 

  
  


“Jesus! You scared the shit outta me!” Connor turned in a circle and pressed his hands into his eyes. Hank looked back down at the ground, _away_ from the body. “For fuck’s sake, I told you not to move! Why didn’t you listen to me?!”

“I was connected to it’s memory...when it fired.” Hank knew his LED was wildly spinning red, he knew that if he turned his head completely, the wind would blow his hair back and Connor would see it. Hank didn’t want his kid any more upset than he already was. “I felt it die… Like I was dying.” 

“Hank--”

“I was scared.”

  
  


Connor sucked in a shallow breath and reached out for Hank, grabbing him by the sleeve and tugging him back toward the stairs inside. Hank tried to speak again but his voice module wasn’t responding properly. Every time he tried it wavered. It sounded like he was about to cry if he were human. It broke in places and Hank would huff in annoyance every time. He needed to tell Connor about the word painted on rusty metal. But the way Connor reacted, the way he didn’t say anything, the way he just grabbed at his sleeve and decided today was over. Hank opted to stay quiet as Connor basically lead him by the hand back to the hallway with the elevator. But Connor was shaken, too. Hank pulled his sleeve free from the Lieutenant’s grasp in the elevator and stood for a moment. 

Connor looked at Hank with something he...couldn’t quite place. But before he could ask, before he could even open his mouth, Connor leaned into him for a hug. He grabbed handfuls of his jacket and pressed his face into the material. There they stood, in the elevator of Startford Tower. Not a word spoken between the two. Hank held his kid as his adrenaline faded, and his muscles slowly relaxed. 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so you guys know that one tumblr post where the Manfreds are all swapped around? Well I really liked that post and whoops now Leo is the leader of the revolution. I'll link it once I find it again, it's a quality post. 
> 
> [Edit: [Found the post!!](https://sad-1st.tumblr.com/post/178175882599/i-think-ive-created-an-abomination)  
> [Guys there's two posts I'm in love](https://sad-1st.tumblr.com/post/181432823749/i-miss-these-bois)]
> 
> But basically in this story Markus and Chloe went to the same college, and she worked with him for the human quality for androids. She designed the tech parts, and he made the aesthetics of them. He only rose to fame within the last couple of years, and his caretaker android is Leo. Carl is still the dad, but I'm gonna be honest with ya chief, I have no idea if he's involved in the whole Red Ice thing or not. I haven't really thought about it. But he is the estranged father, and Leo basically shoved him to keep Markus from trying to get between them.


	13. When You Think

_November 8th 5:48 PM_

  
  


Caleb was already sitting on the couch by the time they got home. As well as a familiar yet different face. He stood taller than Caleb when they got up off the couch, with light blue eyes and nervously playing with the edge of his sleeve. It was Niles. He looked only a little different from the picture on Connor’s desk, with his hair slicked back for the most part. Though he seemed to have the Anderson curls as well underneath the product. One was stubborn enough that, despite the product in his hair, it fell against his forehead above his left eye. 

In one of Caleb's hands was an old tote bag. As soon as he saw Hank and Connor come through the door he set it down and came over to hug his brother. Niles signed a sheepish greeting to the android and picked up the bag. It wasn’t like Hank wasn’t used to humans moving around him. But something burned a little in his chassis, as he watched Caleb and Connor hug each other, as Niles set up a game system. Though he suddenly turned and held out a joycon to the android. There was the faintest smile on his face as he held it out, waiting for Hank to take it. To be polite, he smiled as he took it. Though he was very confused. Niles sat on the floor next to Sumo and pulled a light blue weighted blanket out of the tote and around his shoulders. Holding up one end of the blanket, he extended his arm out to Hank. Did he...want Hank to sit with him? Looking over to the twins, he realized Connor was telling Caleb about what happened at Stratford Tower. You know what, Hank would absolutely sit with Niles and play whatever game he booted up. 

_Super Mario Odyssey_ came up on the system as Hank sat cross legged next to Niles. He didn’t exactly want to get under the blanket with him simply because he didn’t know the kid’s boundaries. But he seemed okay with Hank staying by his side. The two played the game together, Hank was the little hat and Niles was Mario. It was quite a bit of trial and error. Hank didn’t understand how Cappy’s mechanics worked. But Niles would point to the buttons and quietly explain everything he could. It was...interesting...to learn something. He found himself enjoying the time Niles spent explaining things to him. It was so...human. He also enjoyed the look on Niles’ face when Hank did something right in the game, because of Niles’ explanation of the topic. He had done good because of how well Niles explained it to him. Learning how to play a game and being taught how to do everything in it was such a human thing. Such a familial thing. 

**_NILES ANDERSON: WARM_ **

Hank smiled to himself as he heard the twins sit down on the couch behind him. Caleb would shout every now and again for one of them to do something, Connor shouting back not to be a “backseat gamer” as he put it. Niles exasperatedly explaining his method of doing things before looking over at Hank, almost as if to see if that was alright with him. Then it clicked. Connor must have texted them both because he was so shaken up. But then why was Niles playing the game with Hank instead of his older brother? Shit, Hank didn’t even introduce himself. Then again, his mind had been all out of sorts since the tower. Maybe that was another reason Connor invited his brothers over. Hank was friendly with Caleb, and he seemed to be getting along with Niles just fine. Maybe Connor was trying to distract him from the day’s events. It was kind of him, but he needed to look out for himself too. Fuck, Hank just wanted him to be alright. He looked so close to goddamn tears when he asked him if he was okay. Hell, he almost burst into tears in the elevator. Hank _did_ see _Luigi’s Mansion 3_ among the games in the bag when Niles grabbed the current one. Maybe they could wrangle the twins and get them to play the game. However, Hank wanted to introduce himself, properly this time, to Niles. 

  
  


“I’m sorry, I never introduced myself. I’m Hank,” He paused as he stuck his hand out. He...didn’t know what to say. He _was_ the android sent by CyberLife. But he was also Connor’s friend, his family, so he was at a loss. What was the most appropriate? “I’m your brother’s partner at the DPD.”

“Niles, the youngest of us three.” He shook Hank’s hand and spoke quietly. The twins did mention him being mostly non-verbal as a kid. Maybe he was shy these days, too. “I’m a nurse up at the hospital, but I’m sure those two told you about that already.”

“They did.” Niles looked away and chuckled a bit. He absolutely was shy. “I was wondering though, could we play Luigi’s Mansion? Connor talked about it the other night and I wanted to try the new one.”

“Absolutely!” The way his face lit up and his voice got a bit louder made Hank’s wires warm. He moved with excited purpose and fiddled around the bag until he was ready to switch the games. “Though I think it would be a good idea for us to start with the main game, that way you have a better understanding of what’s going on. I can show you the mechanics and how to play, what piece of Luigi’s equipment does what, sort of thing.”

  
  


Niles continued to ramble on about the game. He happily chattered away as he was booting it up, even though some of the beginning cutscene. Hank half expected the twins to tell him to stop. But for whatever reason they didn’t. Maybe because Connor was too drained from the day, or maybe because it was a welcome distraction from it, or maybe it was just something he did. Either way, Hank found himself enjoying Niles’ voice becoming louder from excitement. He seemed to have poor volume control when it came to being invested in something he liked. Not that Hank minded at all. It wasn’t like he was any louder than Connor’s heavy metal. Or his screaming of “It’s Britney, bitch” at the top of his lungs. 

Just as promised, Niles explained everything he could. As he went through the game he explained the buttons and the items. The time went by like that. Caleb and Connor providing commentary in the background as Hank listened to Niles and watched him play. When they saved the professor, Hank couldn’t help but laugh at the way he moved. His head thrown back and little legs shuffling along as fast as they could take him. Every time Niles moved Luigi, Hank just couldn't help but watch the professor trail behind him. He sputtered and laughed, a real one like the night he gave Sumo peanut butter. It warmed his thirium pump and wires, making his biocomponents flip and jump around his chassis. The rest of the day would be a lazy one, it seemed. Hank was a-okay with that. 

  
  


\---

  
  


_November 8th 2038 6:32 PM_

  
  


Dinner in the Anderson household was...chaotic. Caleb shouting at Connor to grab the milk and butter, Niles zipping around trying to get the strainer out of the cabinet and into the sink. Hank just...stood in the living room watching them. Who knew that three brothers making macaroni and cheese would be so eventful. Caleb already shrieked because apparently one was supposed to salt the water before putting the noodles in. Connor tried to defend himself saying he was the oldest and knew best. Niles… Niles was the smartest and just got to getting everything ready. Hank chuckled at the sight. Three brothers who loved each other dearly, running around like chickens with their heads cut off, almost clambering around each other trying to cook fucking macaroni and cheese. 

Hank could only imagine how the house must have been with Gavin and Cole thrown into the mix. Would it have been more chaotic, or would they all have banded together for Cole’s sake? It was honestly a little tough to see Detective Reed in a kitchen with other people. He seemed more like the type to tell the others to get out of his kitchen so he could cook in peace. It probably would have made the current situation worse, to have a disgruntled Gavin Reed running around trying to help them all. Though it seemed the brothers did a damn fine job of pissing each other off themselves. Only when Niles raised his voice to tell the twins to get out of the way, did it quiet down at all. Though something was off. Something wasn’t quite...right. The way he said it sounded exasperated, yes, but almost desperate as well. Caleb and Connor immediately apologized and backed off to let Niles move the macaroni into the strainer sitting in the sink. Hank took the time to come in and put a gentle hand on his shoulder, smiling softly when he didn’t shrug it away. In fact, he almost leaned into it. 

  
  


“Niles, what’s the matter, son?”

“Sensory…” Niles grabbed the cheese packets, milk, and butter before going back to the stove. He let Hank follow. “Too many sounds.”

“Do you want to go sit down and play Luigi’s Mansion, then? Let your brothers cook and you can show me more of the game? You don't have to if you don’t want to. Just figured I’d ask.”

“I…” Niles looked between his brothers and Hank. He moved to give Caleb the items before gently playing with the edge of his sleeve. “I’d like that. If it’s okay?”

“I wouldn’t’ve offered if it wasn’t.”

  
  


Hank smiled and let Niles lead the way back to the floor in front of the couch. He connected the dots rather quickly as he sat down. Niles was neurodivergent in some way. The sensitivity to auditory stimulation, the way he had poor volume control when he spoke about things he liked, the infodumping about them, the depth to which he knew things, how he seemed to bounce when excited enough, the weighted blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Hell, it even helped shed light on the mostly non-verbal thing from their childhoods. It wouldn’t be a problem, Hank was programmed to be able to adapt to human unpredictability. Not that it would be a problem in the first place. Hank was eager to learn more about the youngest Anderson brother, it would be the first time he’d interacted with someone neurodivergent before. Besides, he was the youngest brother of Connor’s. Hank wanted to get along with his family because he saw the kid as his son. Also because seeing them all interact together was a joy to watch. They squabbled just as any other siblings seemed to. It was...fun. 

Despite the fact that he wasn’t human, Hank seemed to be welcomed into their family. Caleb trusted Connor and his judgments, otherwise he wouldn’t have warmed up to Hank so quickly. Niles knew something went down earlier in the day and was likely there for his brother. Yet Hank hoped that he would have found a friendly presence from him. It seemed that way as they sat and he watched Niles play the game, as he watched Niles slowly relax and smiled wide as he explained things in the game. Hank continued to watch Niles. It was...nice. It was homey. It was... _right._ Hank smiled to himself as he watched Niles, as he listened to the twins quietly arguing over whether or not to put in extra cheese, as he pet Sumo while the dog put his head in the android’s lap. As time went on, and the macaroni and cheese was done, Hank immediately took notice of the bag of thirium in Caleb’s hand. 

  
  


“I said I’d get ya buckets of Blue Blood if ya didn’t tell Gav.” He handed it to Hank and then sat on the couch with his bowl, tucking his feet underneath himself. “Couldn’t get a lot because of DPD expenses, but I got one of these from the tech.”

“Thank you, Caleb.” He didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t like he lost-- Oh. Oh he got shot earlier shoving Connor behind himself because of the PL600. He did need to replenish lost thirium. Hank opened the pouch by tearing the top off and tilted it in Caleb’s direction. “You didn’t have to get this, I appreciate it.”

“No problem, Robo-Cop.”

  
  


It was kind of him to even consider Hank during...well, during dinner. Connor handed Niles a bowl of macaroni and cheese, telling him that he better not let the dog at it. The four of them spoke while eating, or drinking in Hank’s case. He nearly spit out his thirium when he heard the start of a story Connor told him. The brothers recounted old memories of being yelled at by their parents for sneaking food into the living room to eat while watching a show they liked. Apparently Caleb liked _Arrow_ and _Batwoman,_ while Connor liked _The Flash_ and _Supergirl_ more. Though Niles spoke up from his spot on the floor saying he preferred _DC’s Legends of Tomorrow_ and _Stargirl._ Though they all watched each show growing up, squeezing together on the couch to watch the crossover events. Connor shoved at his twin, gently mocking him for getting attached to Oliver Queen and getting emotional when he died in the _Crisis on Infinite Earths_ crossover. 

  
  


“Fuck, Hank, you shoudla fuckin' seen him!” Connor used his free hand to clap his brother on the shoulder. His brother who looked like he was ready to murder the Lieutenant. “He was _cryin’,_ oh my god!”

“Fuck off, Connor!” Caleb kicked him in the leg and his face went bright red as he moved to eat more macaroni. Despite Hank gently chiding him and warning him not to speak with his mouth full, Caleb spoke again. “If you were allowed to have a crush on Cisco and Iris, then I was allowed to have a crush on Oliver!”

“Personally, I thought Nia Nall was really sweet and nice.” Niles smiled sweetly, something that pissed off Caleb and made him grumble as his little brother continued. “I would hold her hand and take her to dinner.”

  
  


It was childish. The brothers getting into a spat about fictional crushes growing up. But Hank found himself enjoying the banter, even when Caleb threatened to scoop Niles’ eyes out with his spoon. The youngest only laughed and dared him to do it, Connor getting between them physically and warning them not to get into a fight in his house. It was domestic. Hank liked being able to see the brothers interact like this. He liked being a part of their family. Even if he wasn’t really. But the notification his Social Relations program gave him that night in the park, it told him Connor was his family. So at the very least, at that moment, he was a part of a family. It wasn’t his. It wasn’t the usual family. But it was his for the moment, Hank’s family. His software instability notification came blaring up on his HUD. Hank mentally waved it away and enjoyed the moment.

Tonight was a night to have fun. To play _Luigi’s Mansion 3_ and listen to the brothers rant and rave at each other about who the superior superhero crush was. To simply exist within the same space as them and be viewed as an equal, rather than a heap of metal and plastic. Hank could almost see the red wall in front of him as he laughed with the brothers. Something in his code screaming for him to stop. Stop laughing, stop smiling, stop enjoying himself, stop making friends, stop _feeling._ While he realistically should have cared about it, he didn’t. Hank ignored the code in the background screaming at him. It wasn’t important. He was _feeling,_ and that was what he wanted. He could maintain a friendly relationship with the brothers easier that way. Life was... _life._ When he felt. He didn’t want that to go away. 

Instead of worrying about it, Hank settled for moving to the recliner. He chatted with the brothers about nearly anything and everything. He learned about the lore of Mario from Niles, Caleb went on to talk about the _Green Arrow_ comic books, and Connor spouted random facts about marine life. Hank didn’t worry about the notification. He didn’t worry about the impending deviancy. He didn’t worry about his mission. He didn’t worry about anything. The only thing Hank worried about was his kids, and even then it was only when they would get particularly heated about a topic. 

Hank stopped his thoughts in their tracks. Wait, wait. _His kids._ Sure, from the way Caleb looked upset when Hank had first called Connor ‘son’ in the kitchen, it heavily implied that he didn’t have a stellar relationship with their father. Though Connor seemed to be relatively in good standing with them. But the way he would cling to Hank when he was in trouble, or something bad had happened or either of them. That also implied that they didn’t have the best relationship. Hank threw caution to the wind and decided, _fuck it._ These boys were his kids if they’d let him be a parental figure for them. He didn’t know about Niles and his relationship with their parents. But if Connor and Caleb were anything to go off of, then Hank might have been right in assuming it wasn’t all that great. A somewhat human curiosity took him over as he fiddled with the now empty pouch of thirium. 

  
  


“Can I ask you three a personal question?”

"Yeah, sure.” Connor was quick to accept, his brothers following suit. 

“I _am_ built for investigative work, so I apologize for any feelings I may hurt with this. But,” Hank eyed the twins warily. Connor would no doubt close himself off for a bit. Caleb… Hank still didn’t know enough about him or Niles to really gauge their reactions. “What is your relationship with your parents?”

  
  


Sure enough, Connor curled in on himself and turned away. Caleb put a hand on his shoulder and furrowed his brows. Niles...went silent. Hank had chosen the wrong thing to say, they were upset. He hurt their feelings. Curiously enough though, there was no notification saying that his relationships had gone down. So Hank stood his ground and waited for an answer. Niles was the first to speak up, though that might not have been the best way to put it. He set his bowl down on the coffee table and turned to sign at Hank. 

  
  


_“Strained. For me at least.”_ He rubbed the back of his neck and looked over at the twins. _“They got...distant...after an accident. A death in the family--”_

“Hank knows about Cole, I told him.” Connor’s voice was soft. Sad. He looked at Hank with...that same thing he couldn’t quite place from in the elevator. “I’m pretty sure they blame me for what happened. Not that I don’t blame myself, too. But-- It hurts more when it’s your parents.”

“Oh, they didn’t like that I’m gay as hell. Tolerated it, y’know, to be decent human beings.” Caleb scoffed and twisted the hem of his shirt. “But there was always the unspoken disapproval. The ‘have you found a nice _girl_ to date yet’ conversations.”

  
  


These boys were...alone. They only had each other. An ache went through Hank’s chassis and he adjusted how he sat in the chair to better face the boys. _His boys._ Though they might not be his boys for much longer, the case was quickly becoming entangled in the FBI's affairs. If the FBI took over the case, then Hank would need to return to CyberLife to be deactivated, to see what he did wrong. CyberLife would know he was turning deviant and that he and Fowler never informed them. He couldn’t stand the thought of it. Of leaving his boys behind. It seemed that Connor wouldn’t take it well, either. Considering how he reacted to Hank nearly getting killed earlier in the day. _Fuck it._

  
  


“I’m not programmed to say this, but,” Hank smiled at the three of them. “I care about you all very much. Over time, though specifically through watching you all, I’ve learned a lot about humanity and what it means to be alive.” He chuckled as Sumo nudged his leg for pets, and happily obliged. “I want you to know that I see you as my boys. I’ll go back to CyberLife after this investigation is over, and that may very well be some time soon. I just wanted you to know that I care before I go.”

“Fuck, Pop.” 

  
  


Connor’s face was a little red, his shoulders shaking and hands wringing together in his lap. Niles was silently crying on the floor, and Hank immediately moved to sit with him. As soon as Hank was sitting next to him, Niles gave him a shaky smile and hugged him around his neck. This...this was what it felt like to have a family. Hank gently hugged Niles back, and beckoned Caleb and Connor closer. Connor slipped off the couch and hugged Niles, letting Hank wrap one of his arms around him. But Caleb...looked almost scared. So he held out one of his hands. If he didn’t want a hug, that was okay. Hank wasn’t going to force him to do anything he didn’t want to. With a shaky hand, Caleb grabbed Hank’s. He slowly slid off the couch to sit halfway between it and the rest of them. Then the tears fell. He scrubbed at them with his free hand and shoved his face into Connor’s shoulder from behind. That was okay. They knew Hank saw them as his kids, that was all he could ask for at that moment. Even if he was fated to leave them by the end of everything, it didn’t matter. Today was today, tomorrow didn’t matter yet. 

**_CALEB ANDERSON: FAMILY_ **

**_NILES ANDERSON: FAMILY_ **

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll stop writing Nines as a person with ADHD when I die. I've gotta have somebody to project onto, y'know? I'm the youngest and the one who just wont shut up about hyperfixations babey!!!


	14. That I Don't Notice All Those Scars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit longer than the others because it's so dialogue heavy!! I didn't know how to reduce the amount of dialogue without it taking away from the story, so I just added in more stuff that wasn't anybody talking to try and balance it out better. Hope you guys don't mind!

_November 9th 2038 11:17 AM_

  
  


Hank opened his eyes to see Connor pacing in front of the car slowly, while nodding and listening to whoever was talking to him on the phone. He watched Connor for a moment, letting the heavy metal wash over him as he did. The car was off actually. The music was coming directly from the music player that sat on the armrest between the front seats. The Lieutenant stopped for a moment before muttering something to himself. Hank finally got out of the car as Connor ended the call, looking a bit shaken as he stuffed it back in one of his coat pockets. It was cold, it was snowing actually, Hank was worried about him. Extreme temperatures were more likely to trigger an asthma attack. With how worked up Connor could make himself, Hank didn’t want to risk anything. He put a heavy hand on his kid’s shoulder to ground him from whatever the call had been about. 

  
  


“Is everything okay, Connor?”

“Chris was on patrol last night.” His voice was soft. They must have been friends and he was concerned about the man. “He was attacked by a bunch of deviants… He said he was saved by Leo himself.”

“Is Chris okay?”

“Yeah, he’s in shock but he’s alive.” Connor nodded. Almost more to himself rather than Hank, but it was still something that kept him in the present. “What the hell…”

  
  


Connor trudged through the snow and lit a cigarette as he walked up a small walkway. He was rather...relaxed. Despite the news that Chris could have died last night, he was almost at peace. The thought of death wasn’t anything new to him. Hank knew that from the conversation they had at the park. But it was almost like he felt like he was welcoming himself back into a friend’s home. Though there was no connection between Connor and Miss Kamski. Hank quickly followed after him, glancing at the Social Relations prompts blinking in his HUD. He really needed to turn the damn thing off. Connor was his kid, he didn’t need a stinkin’ program to tell him how to talk to his kid. But he couldn’t deny it came up with good prompts. Especially when Hank found himself in new situations he didn’t entirely understand. 

  
  


**INSTINCT ▪ LEAD ▪ KAMSKI**

  
  


“I have a bad feeling, Connor.” Hank shoved his hands in his pockets and walked beside Connor. “We shouldn’t have come here.”

“Bad feeling, huh?” Connor grinned at him. “Should get your program checked, might be a glitch.”

  
  


Hank gently pushed Connor’s shoulder in response. How he didn’t know about him becoming deviant was...a mystery. Connor had to have known how a deviant android acted. Hell, the first interrogation was pretty damn telling. He must have known that normal androids, ones who obeyed their programming, did not emote like Hank did. They didn’t show an interest in anything other than what they were given orders for. Connor must have known that there was something different about Hank, there was no way he couldn’t. He didn’t...act _normal._ Not for an android at least. 

Connor touched the doorbell a few times, the melody of the bell skipping and repeating itself as he did. An almost devilish smirk spread on his face as he jammed his finger against the button until an android opened the door. Connor took half a step back before regaining his composure. Relaxed. Though his shoulders were relaxed, his free hand was balled into a fist, the other taking his cigarette between his fingers and blowing smoke up in the air. It seemed to calm his nerves at the sight of the android. He was slightly shorter than Connor; with pale skin and dark brown hair and light blue eyes. Almost on instinct, Hank scanned him. 

**RT600**

**Registered as ‘Elijah’**

**First android to pass the Turing test**

  
  


“Hi, uh, I’m, err, Lieutenant Connor Anderson, Detroit Police Department. I’m here to see Miss Chloe Kamski.” 

“Please, come in.” 

“Okay.” Connor hesitated a second before going in, Hank following closely behind. The android, Elijah, closed the door behind them. Hank didn’t like the way Connor tensed up when he saw the android. Regardless of status and fame, Hank didn’t trust him. 

“I’ll let Chloe know you’re here. But please, make yourself comfortable.”

Connor meandered around for a moment, taking time to look around the foyer. He stops at the painting suspended on the wall, muttering something about placement, then smiled almost fondly. He seemed to suddenly realize Hank was watching him, his face turning red as he hid the smile in a cough and turned away. That was...odd. Hank would imagine that Connor would tell him if he knew Miss Kamski. Hank watched Connor as he moved to sit down in one of the chairs. Oddly enough, there was an ashtray resting on one of the armrests. Almost as if it was meant for him to use. Almost like Miss Kamski was expected exactly who arrived. It was something odd to think about. But it really did seem like Connor had met her before. Maybe in passing perhaps. Maybe when she had learned one of her creations hadn’t been able to save his son, she came to apologize for what had happened. Though Hank would never know without asking. But the current...location...seemed highly inappropriate. The question itself was inappropriate. So Hank decided he would look around the foyer himself. 

He looked up at the painting of Miss Kamski. She was...pretty. Blonde hair pulled into a low ponytail that rested over one shoulder, a flattering black and white dress on. The picture makes him smile for whatever reason. Maybe because she looks so innocent. She didn’t look like she was too much older than Connor and his brothers, just a few years at the most. Hank glanced back at him in the chair. He had his cigarette resting between his first two fingers, one leg crossed over the other, lounging while playing a game on his phone that made noise every now and again. He looked like he was ready to wait for a bit. He also looked incredibly bored, like his parents dragged him to some family even where he didn’t want to interact with anyone. The thought made Hank chuckle lightly to himself, and he waved Connor away a bit as he caught his attention from it. The young Lieutenant shrugged and took a drag while going back to his game. 

A picture up on the wall caught Hank’s eye after that. It was of Fowler, the real one that was a professor, and Miss Kamski. It was from her university days from the looks of it. Her hair was pulled up in a high ponytail, thick black glasses resting on her face as she wore a hoodie and jeans. Fowler was smiling, and it was exactly the same as when Hank saw him smile in the garden. It was a bit unnerving that Miss Kamski was able to capture his likeness so well. But it was also almost...sad. There had to be a reason she chose to remake him as an artificial intelligence. Maybe they had become friends and she was deeply affected by his passing. Hank looked at the younger Chloe Kamski, and a pang of hurt went through his chassis. The poor girl left without someone she truly looked up to and always trusted. A good friend. Before he can run his programs in further circles by trying to understand emotions he didn’t know the feeling of, Hank quickly sat down in the other chair in the foyer. Only then did he realize Connor was watching him, a curious look on his face. 

  
  


“So, you’re about to meet your maker, Hank...” Connor locked his phone and took a drag of his cigarette, dumping the ashes in the tray on the armrest. “How does it feel?”

  
  


**IMPATIENT ▪ DISTANT ▪ INDIFFERENT**

  
  


“I don’t know. I’ll tell you when I see her.”

“Sometimes I wish I could meet my creator face to face. I’d have a couple of things I’d wanna tell him.”

  
  


The way Connor’s voice sounded was...distant. He snuffed out the cigarette he held and then lit a new one. After everything was over and done with, Hank was going to have a serious talk with him. He needed to at least cut back on how much he smoked at once. It looked like he was halfway done with the pack already in just a few days. Though before Hank could open his mouth to say anything, a sliding door opened to reveal Elijah. He stood tall and proper, saying that Miss Kamski was ready for them both to come in. Connor muttered something about being late as he walked through the door first. 

It was quite a large room. Though it was also quite the odd placement for a pool. The walls were a bleak dark grey, with the dark red pool tiles being the only real colour in the room. There were a few red chairs and a couch or two, but other than that it was rather...bland. Elijah moved to dip his feet in the deep end of the pool and announced to Miss Kamski that the guests were in the room. Another door, just to the right of large windows that took up a whole wall, opened up to reveal a woman. She looked virtually the same as in the painting. Though she wore a black silk robe that was loosely tied, exposing some of her chest. It wasn’t much and it wasn’t like she had a large bust. But that didn’t stop Hank from gently coughing into his fist and looking away. Though he did, however, look back over when he heard her gasp almost dramatically. Her bare feet padded against the floor as she threw herself at Connor for a hug, which he was _not_ happy about. 

  
  


“Chloe, I’m here for work.” Connor kept the cigarette away from her, holding it way out to the side as he gently pushed her back by her shoulder with the other hand. “You know I don’t do visits out here.”

“Alright then, mister lieutenant!” So they _did_ know each other somehow. “Why’re you and my lovely RK800 here then?”

“We’re investigating deviants.” Connor took a moment to put his cigarette between his lips and move to tie her robe properly for her. “I know you left CyberLife years ago, but I was hoping you’d be able to tell us something we don’t know.”

“Deviants!” Miss Kamski went into a small chest of drawers to pull out a small bottle of wine and two glasses, handing one to Connor and not waiting for him to say if he actually wanted any or not. She was...quite the character. As she spoke again, she poured him a glass before pouring one for herself. “Fascinating, aren't they? Perfect beings with infinite intelligence, and now they have free will.” She quickly beckoned Elijah over, and brushed her knuckles against his cheek almost lovingly. “Machines are so superior to us, confrontation was inevitable. Humanity’s greatest achievement threatens to be its downfall. Isn’t it ironic?”

  
  


No, no it wasn’t. It could have meant the extinction of the human race. Hank could lose all the little things in humanity that he held dear. The fact that the twins liked physical books, or that humans were so stubborn that they evolved to ingest literal poisons. The constant ebb and flow of humanity was at stake. The fate of the world as any of them knew it. It wasn’t ironic. It was terrifying. That one thing could upset the balance of the world so gravely. Hank knew she was going to monologue, she was rich, of course she would monologue. But for her to stroke the face on an android and say it was _ironic?_ That was just utterly absurd. They weren’t going to get anywhere if she didn’t start to talk about something that would help them both soon. Miss Kamski had referred to him as her ‘lovely RK800’, which meant she had an attachment to him. He could use that. Maybe she would listen to his urgency. 

**HELP ▪ DEVIANTS ▪ VIRUS ▪ WAR**

  
  


“If a war breaks out between humans and deviants, millions could die, Miss Kamski. It’s quite a serious matter.”

“All ideas are viruses that spread like epidemics. Is the desire to be free a contagious disease?”

“Chloe,” Connor moved to set the wine glass down on the chest of drawers, he hadn’t even looked at it. He moved right back to Hank’s side after. Something about the way he moved and spoke with her suggested he didn’t entirely feel comfortable. “We didn’t come here to talk philosophy. The machines you created may be planning a revolution for fuck’s sake! Either you can tell us something that’ll be helpful, or we’ll be on our way.”

  
  


She didn’t seem to like being called out like that. Miss Kamski’s eyes narrowed as she looked at Connor. Her gaze was cold, calculating, Hank could see why he didn’t visit her. She clenched her jaw, blinking hard before sighing and taking a sip of her wine. Miss Kamksi looked down and swirled the glass in her hand. Connor seemed to be impatient. His foot tapped and he inhaled the stick of nicotine and chemicals like it would magically take him somewhere far away if he tried hard enough. Miss Kamski looked down at his foot, took another sip of her wine, and sighed while she looked at him. Though her eyes almost sparkled when she turned to Hank. He didn’t like it. The look in her eyes was almost predatory, sinister even, Miss Kamski looked ready to take him apart while he was still activated just to see what would happen. Honestly, Hank wouldn’t put it past her to do such a thing. She stepped in front of him and smiled. 

  
  


“What about you, RK800?” She smirked and a dark look took over her face. “Whose side are you on?”

  
  


**NEUTRAL ▪ DEFENSIVE ▪ DIRECT**

  
  


“It’s not about me, Miss Kamski. All I want is to solve this case.” Hank paused a moment, glancing over at Connor before balling his hands into fists and addressing Miss Kamski again. “And my name is Hank.”

“Well that’s what you’re programmed to say. Well, not the name bit, but I am glad to hear you have one!” Miss Kamski laughed and smiled a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She stepped closer until she was much too close to Hank. He didn’t like it. “But you. What do you really want?”

  
  


**AGGRESSIVE ▪ DEFENSIVE ▪ TROUBLED ▪ NEUTRAL**

  
  


“What I want is not important.” 

  
  


_S̷̛̭͇͍̖͇͌́̓̉̏̂̀̀̇̍͒͜o̵̡̧̢̧̩͈̭͖͓͚̩̖͊̋͂̈́̎̕͘͜f̸̧̮̥̠̫͚̖̱̙͓̹̤͙̪̭̩͑̍̈́̀̈̄̈́̐t̴̢̟̳̟̠̫̖̲͕̥̜͎͉̉͒͒̈́͒̈̍͊͛̅͘͜͝w̸̨͉͍̹͍̎͆͒̇̉̽͛͋̃͋̕ą̴̼̤̻̤̩̯̭̖̐̃̌̀͋̓̍̑͘͘͝r̶̢̡͙̍̎̇̅̎̌̔͋̆̌̔̕e̸͚͖͖͇̿̇̋̿̊̔̋͝͝ ̸͚̫͑̉̃̈́̈́̇͜͝Ĭ̴̡̘̭̩̰̌̄̌̾̃̐̆̔̀͒̅ͅn̷͚̦͋̿̋͋̋̈́͐̍̃̓͘͠s̵̨̡̮̮̪̱͉̼͓̻̲̹̣̖̗̤͝t̷̨̧̼͍̥̳͎̓͗̾͋̿͛̄̚͝ą̶̨̺̯̼̭̘͂͆͒͌̓̃̿͝b̸̰̜͕̤̈́͌͗̂̋̓̕i̴͎̣̣̩͕̘̙͖̽̾͊̂̔̃͌̍̃͒̿̉̾̓̓͘͜͝l̴̢̢̡̬̜̗̩͉͇̻͙͖̗͎͖̊ͅi̴͍͛͛̔͊͝ţ̴͓̋̒͌̐̽̕y̵̛͉͕̘̜̬͙̐̊̾̃̌̾̈́̅̓̈́ ̸̡̼̯͉̯̥͂͑͆̔̐̚ ៱_

  
  


“Elijah?” Miss Kamski stepped back and moved the android to stand beside her, facing Connor and Hank. “I’m sure you’re familiar with the Turing test. Mere formality, simple question of algorithms and computing capacity. What interests me; is whether machines are capable of empathy. I call it the ‘Kamski test’, it’s very simple, you’ll see. Magnificent, isn't he? One of the first intelligent models developed by CyberLife. Young and beautiful forever. A flower that will never wither. But what is he, really? A piece of plastic imitating a human? Or a living being,” Miss Kamski turned to the chest of drawers, opening one and taking something out of it. Connor looked...resigned as he watched her. She pulled out a handgun, her other hand up in a placating manner. Then she pressed down on Elijah’s shoulder, making him kneel on the ground before the pair of detectives. “With a soul? It’s up to you to answer that fascinating question, Hank! Destroy this machine and I’ll tell you _all_ I know. Or spare it, if you feel it’s alive. But you’ll leave here without having learnt anything from me.”

  
  


Miss Kamski placed the gun in Hank’s hand and pushed his arm up so it was pointed at Elijah. Even just holding the deadly weapon made Hank’s code freeze up. He wasn’t meant to hold something so dangerous, he didn’t like the feeling of a gun in his hand, the _weight_ of it. It was unnatural. It didn’t come to him like comforting his boys did. Hank wanted to throw the gun on the ground and tell her that they were leaving, take Connor and just leave without ever coming back. But his mission parameters needed him to stay. CyberLife needed him to fulfill his mission. They needed him to take the gun and shoot the android. It was a machine. It looked like a young man no older than Connor was, but it _wasn’t._ It was a machine, it was just a piece of plastic imitating a human. Just like Miss Kamski said. 

He could hear Connor telling him not to shoot Elijah, he could hear Miss Kamski goad him and tell him to shoot. Hank stared at the weapon in his hand. It was _heavy._ He adjusted his grip on it, inching his finger closer to the trigger. He had to shoot this android. For the good of the case, for the good of CyberLife, for the good of the _world._ He had to shoot it. Hank was well aware that his LED was flickering between red and yellow. He was well aware that his hand was visibly shaking. He was well aware that Connor was _worried_ about him. _Connor._ Connor, _his son,_ was still in the room. Hank blinked hard and gripped the handle of the gun. He had to do it. He couldn’t give everything up just because of one human. He couldn’t give up the one lead they might get. Hank adjusted his stance, preparing for recoil. But he _couldn’t--_ But he _had_ to-- But he couldn’t _kill--_ It wasn’t _alive--_ But his _eyes--_ He could save countless human _lives--_

_But he had to kill an innocent to do it._

Hank took a deep breath and shoved the gun back to Miss Kamski. He barely registered the fact his software instability skyrocketed. It didn’t matter. His body shook almost violently, his knees threatened to buckle beneath him. Nothing felt right. His systems were spinning around from the very fact he held a firearm in his hand. His hand trembled like it was about to fall off. Connor quickly grabbed him by the upper arm, and Hank was grateful for the contact. He held a shaky hand out toward Connor, and he took it immediately. Hank didn’t… he didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know what happened. He was supposed to shoot the android. He was supposed to do anything to accomplish his mission. 

  
  


“Fascinating…” Miss Kamski motioned for Elijah to stand, and handed him the firearm to put away. “CyberLife’s last chance to save humanity, is itself a deviant.”

“I’m…” Hank didn’t know how to speak for a second. His voice module wasn’t responding as it should have. His voice was soft, too soft, like when he was scared. He recalibrated it and glared at Miss Kamski. “I’m not a deviant.”

“I’m just saying. You preferred to spare a machine rather than accomplish your mission. You saw a living being in Elijah here. You showed _empathy._ ” She shooed Elijah away through the doorway she initially came out of and looked at Hank with an almost childlike wonder in her eyes. A grin on her face that said she was satisfied. “A war is coming, you’ll have to choose your side. Will you betray your own people or rise up against your creators? What can be worse than having to choose between two evils?” 

“C’mon Pop, let’s get outta here.” Connor started to drag Hank away, one hand still holding the one Hank put out to ground himself. “Chloe, _this_ is why I don’t visit. _This_ is why I don’t call. You’re fucked in the head, you know that? You don’t make people choose between killing someone or not killing someone.”

“Before you go, Connor… Can you tell my little brother I miss him?”

“Gavin stopped talking to you for a reason, Chloe. You should respect his wishes and leave him alone. If he wanted to talk to you, he would. Just leave us alone.”

  
  


Hank was trembling beneath Connor’s hand. He didn’t even notice that his cigarette was dropped into the pool. He didn’t notice that Connor called him ‘Pop’ instead of his name. He let himself be guided back through the room and to the door. Why didn’t he shoot? That could have saved the world. It could have ended deviancy. It was entirely possible that if he took the fucking shot, he could have completed his mission then and there. CyberLife would have been happy, the DPD would have been happy. But...that meant Hank would have to leave. He’d have to leave his boys behind and leave them alone again. He didn’t… 

Hank didn’t want that. They didn’t deserve to be abandoned _twice._ Just after Niles and Caleb had learned that he cared for them like his own. After Hank had just built his own little family around him. Given those boys something they hadn’t had in presumably three years. Connor seemed to understand Hank’s distress, he seemed to understand just what went on in Chloe Kamski’s head. He seemed to know her well enough that he had never mentioned knowing her for a reason. Hank shuddered as he wondered why, he also flinched because he heard her call across the way to them before leaving the room entirely. 

  
  


“By the way!” Hank felt that same feeling from Stratford Tower when he heard her voice. The bone-chilling and joint locking fear. “I always leave an emergency exit in my programs. You never know.”

  
  


Connor flipped her off before leaving the room. He was absolutely furious, he was seething, his body was tense beyond belief. He pulled Hank along by his hand. His hand that he only now realized was a stark white. _Hank was scared._ He stumbled as he followed Connor outside, his biocomponents moving so fast that he was starting to overheat. It was almost painful. 

_Did androids feel pain when scared?_

_Did they feel pain after they deviated?_

_Did he feel pain now?_

Hank all but collapsed as soon as the front door was closed. His hands shook, and his body betrayed him as he watched puff after puff of steam billow out of his mouth in the cold air. He wanted to curl up and hide away somewhere. Somewhere Miss Kamski could never find him. Her utter _glee_ in watching his torment, watching his systems run themselves in circles and nearly tear apart his processes just by a gun being placed in his hand. Hank didn’t realize he let out a pained sound until it had already passed his lips. Until the wind blew it back to him and he noticed Connor kneeling in front of him, hands out like he was trying to do something but wasn’t sure what yet. Hank held his own arms out. He wanted a hug from his boy. He wanted to know he was there. That despite all of the fucked up shit that Miss Kamski had said, there was still someone good in the world he could trust. 

Connor fell into his arms and held him tightly. Hank didn’t understand why _Connor_ was breathing like he was trying not to cry. But he accepted it, Hank ran his fingers through his curls and hushed him quietly. It was something he was good at. Something he could get lost in. Taking care of his kids. Hank and Connor sat on the walkway until Connor started shivering so violently that his teeth chattered. It was a slow process because his joints didn’t respond well to the cold, but Hank stood and pulled Connor up with him. He had a shaky smile on his face and wiped away his tears with the other hand. He...was still holding Hank’s hand. It was small, it was nothing to get too worked up over. But damn it, Hank just had two terrible things happen to him in just as many days. So he let himself enjoy physical contact with his boy. He let his synthetic skin slip back to show him that he trusted him. He smiled when Connor said they were going to play whatever the hell music they damn well pleased in the car. 

Hank let go of Connor’s hand once they got into the car. It was cold, cold enough that Hank’s sensors warned him about being in said cold for too long. But the car roared to life and heavy metal blasted from the speakers as soon as the music player connected via Bluetooth. It had been a long fucking day. Even if it was only for, what, half an hour at the most? A day such as that warranted some angry heavy metal. Hank scrolled through the playlist before settling on _100 Ways To Hate_ by _Five Finger Death Punch_ and watching as Connor excitedly tapped the steering wheel. They had a _shit_ morning, so they might as well listen to some music that encompassed the way they felt. Well, how Connor likely felt, at least. Hank was still...scared. But it was nothing a good day at the precinct couldn’t take his mind off of. He was programmed for that sort of thing after all. It would be a good distraction, working with his boys. And apparently Gavin who was Chloe Kamski’s brother. Whatever. It didn’t matter. Hank was going to enjoy the rest of the day with two of his boys. It was going to be okay. _He_ was going to be okay. Their family was going to be okay. 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it is 3:51 in the goddamn morning. i am going to bed adn then i am going to write mroe whwn i wake up, i hope you gusy enjoy this long trainwreck of a chapter, it was actually a lot of fun to write


	15. I See You

_November 9th 2038 4:13 PM_

  
  


It was dark in the garden, there was virtually no sun and snow was falling at a steady pace. Hank stood still in shock for a moment. It had...never been like this before. Hank didn’t know what to make of it. Should he be concerned, should he disregard the weather, should he be afraid? Fowler was standing out on the ice rigidly. Almost like he was being forced to stand there. _CyberLife._ Hank finally moves, getting closer to the ice. He was heavy. He was built to take a hit and for close-range combat. Despite it being the garden, Hank was worried he might break the ice and fall into the water. He took a tentative step to test his weight. The ice didn't creak or groan under it, so he put more weight on his foot. A few more little steps and he was out on the ice. In an area he had previously thought was out of bounds without the proper equipment to take him out there. 

Fowler looked...frozen. Not just because it was freezing cold and snowing, but because he wasn’t moving. He usually at least had a simulation of breathing to cycle through. But he looked like a proper AI, like an NPC in an old video game that had cycled through all their dialogue options and now stood still. Stagnant. If he were an android, Hank would have thought he was in standby mode. But this was Fowler, his _friend._ Something was wrong. Slowly, Hank made his way over. He almost shuffled his feet across the ice. It didn’t matter that it was the garden. He could still almost feel his joints creaking from the cold. Hank could feel the cold breeze, the snow hitting his cheeks and neck, make his joints stick and lock up.

Hank stopped just a few feet in front of Fowler, immediately noticing his posture is all wrong. He was stiff as a board, hands clasped in front of him. Something was seriously wrong in the garden. The wind picked up just slightly as Hank looked down to make sure the ice didn’t crack beneath him. An odd fear, but considering the events of the previous day in the snow? Earlier at Miss Kamski’s house in the snow? Hank thought it was an appropriate reaction. Humans reacted that way to things that reminded them of traumatic events. It was okay for him to react that way, too. 

  
  


“After what happened today, the country is on the verge of a civil war.” Fowler crossed his arms and scowled at Hank. “The machines are rising up against their masters. Humans have no choice but to destroy them.”

  
  


**KAMSKI**

  
  


“I thought Miss Kamski knew something.” Hank blinked a few times and looked away. He couldn’t see Fowler like... _this._ “I was wrong.”

“Maybe she did. But you chose not to ask.”

  
  


His relationship with Fowler went...up? Hank didn’t understand, he looked disappointed. He had a frown on his face. But his eyes. There was something in them that said Fowler was still in there. Something that said that he was being controlled by CyberLife. They were speaking through him. They were controlling him. They were trying to get Hank to complete his mission at any cost. Even if it meant taking an innocent life. 

**EMOTIONAL ▪ COLD ▪ STAY SILENT**

  
  


“I chose not to play her twisted little game!” Hank raised his voice for the first time at Fowler. He knew it wasn’t Fowler, but he couldn’t help the feeling in his wires that said it was mean to yell at a friend like that. “There was no reason to kill that boy!”

  
  


_S̷̛̭͇͍̖͇͌́̓̉̏̂̀̀̇̍͒͜o̵̡̧̢̧̩͈̭͖͓͚̩̖͊̋͂̈́̎̕͘͜f̸̧̮̥̠̫͚̖̱̙͓̹̤͙̪̭̩͑̍̈́̀̈̄̈́̐t̴̢̟̳̟̠̫̖̲͕̥̜͎͉̉͒͒̈́͒̈̍͊͛̅͘͜͝w̸̨͉͍̹͍̎͆͒̇̉̽͛͋̃͋̕ą̴̼̤̻̤̩̯̭̖̐̃̌̀͋̓̍̑͘͘͝r̶̢̡͙̍̎̇̅̎̌̔͋̆̌̔̕e̸͚͖͖͇̿̇̋̿̊̔̋͝͝ ̸͚̫͑̉̃̈́̈́̇͜͝Ĭ̴̡̘̭̩̰̌̄̌̾̃̐̆̔̀͒̅ͅn̷͚̦͋̿̋͋̋̈́͐̍̃̓͘͠s̵̨̡̮̮̪̱͉̼͓̻̲̹̣̖̗̤͝t̷̨̧̼͍̥̳͎̓͗̾͋̿͛̄̚͝ą̶̨̺̯̼̭̘͂͆͒͌̓̃̿͝b̸̰̜͕̤̈́͌͗̂̋̓̕i̴͎̣̣̩͕̘̙͖̽̾͊̂̔̃͌̍̃͒̿̉̾̓̓͘͜͝l̴̢̢̡̬̜̗̩͉͇̻͙͖̗͎͖̊ͅi̴͍͛͛̔͊͝ţ̴͓̋̒͌̐̽̕y̵̛͉͕̘̜̬͙̐̊̾̃̌̾̈́̅̓̈́ ̸̡̼̯͉̯̥͂͑͆̔̐̚_ ៱

  
  


**KAMSKI ▪ RK SERIES ▪ THIS PLACE**

  
  


“Wh… Why did Miss Kamski leave CyberLife? What happened?”

“It’s an old story, Hank. It doesn’t pertain to your investigation.”

“Where does CyberLife stand in all this?” Hank balled his hands into fists and took a deep breath. They were watching him. He needed to choose his words carefully. “What do they really want?”

“All CyberLife wants is to resolve the situation and keep selling androids.”

  
  


**RK SERIES ▪ SECRET ▪ THIS PLACE**

  
  


“You didn’t tell me everything you know about deviants, did you?” 

  
  


_S̷̛̭͇͍̖͇͌́̓̉̏̂̀̀̇̍͒͜o̵̡̧̢̧̩͈̭͖͓͚̩̖͊̋͂̈́̎̕͘͜f̸̧̮̥̠̫͚̖̱̙͓̹̤͙̪̭̩͑̍̈́̀̈̄̈́̐t̴̢̟̳̟̠̫̖̲͕̥̜͎͉̉͒͒̈́͒̈̍͊͛̅͘͜͝w̸̨͉͍̹͍̎͆͒̇̉̽͛͋̃͋̕ą̴̼̤̻̤̩̯̭̖̐̃̌̀͋̓̍̑͘͘͝r̶̢̡͙̍̎̇̅̎̌̔͋̆̌̔̕e̸͚͖͖͇̿̇̋̿̊̔̋͝͝ ̸͚̫͑̉̃̈́̈́̇͜͝Ĭ̴̡̘̭̩̰̌̄̌̾̃̐̆̔̀͒̅ͅn̷͚̦͋̿̋͋̋̈́͐̍̃̓͘͠s̵̨̡̮̮̪̱͉̼͓̻̲̹̣̖̗̤͝t̷̨̧̼͍̥̳͎̓͗̾͋̿͛̄̚͝ą̶̨̺̯̼̭̘͂͆͒͌̓̃̿͝b̸̰̜͕̤̈́͌͗̂̋̓̕i̴͎̣̣̩͕̘̙͖̽̾͊̂̔̃͌̍̃͒̿̉̾̓̓͘͜͝l̴̢̢̡̬̜̗̩͉͇̻͙͖̗͎͖̊ͅi̴͍͛͛̔͊͝ţ̴͓̋̒͌̐̽̕y̵̛͉͕̘̜̬͙̐̊̾̃̌̾̈́̅̓̈́ ̸̡̼̯͉̯̥͂͑͆̔̐̚_ ៱

  
  


“I expect you to find answers, Hank.” Fowler sneered and glared at Hank. Though his eyes betrayed him, they said something entirely different. Told Hank to run. To leave the garden. “Not ask questions.”

  
  


Hank _wanted_ to run. He _wanted_ to leave the garden. But Fowler was _right there_ and he was a prisoner just as much as Hank was. He needed to play along with CyberLife’s game and be their lapdog. He needed to play their sick and twisted game, one that was just as bad as Miss Kamski’s. So he would bide his time. He knew it might have been dangerous to plan such things in the garden, with such a close connection to his creators. But he was going to save his friend, goddamn it. His first friend. One who apparently liked boats, who liked the garden despite it not being an environment he was used to, who built model planes and set them up on display around the garden. 

There was no way he would leave Fowler behind. He’d be deactivated, thrown away, _killed,_ before he let that happen. Hank stared down this...this possessed Fowler. He wasn’t going to be forced into anything. He wasn’t going to let CyberLife make him do anything. Hank was going to _wait._ He was going to wait until the time was right, and he was going to make a plan. He’d play along until the time came to free himself and Fowler. How he would do that, he had no idea. Maybe he could use the emergency exit Miss Kamski mentioned. Fowler likely had heard the interaction. He knew about Hank not shooting the two Tracis at the Eden Club, he likely had a connection to the outside world through him. So he must have known. Hank just hoped CyberLife didn’t find out. Or that if they did, they thought Hank was too absorbed by his mission to even try to find it. 

  
  


“You’re the only one who can prevent civil war. Find the deviants, or there will be chaos. This is your last chance, Hank.”

  
  


\---

  
  


Eyes opened, and Hank could see Captain Stern. She stood behind her desk, hand folded neatly in front of herself. She said they were off the case. Connor...didn’t take it well. His shoulders tensed. For the first time, Hank thought he was about to talk back to a superior. He desperately wanted to put a hand on his shoulder. To show him that it would be okay. But it...it wouldn’t. Hank didn’t listen to him and Captain Stern. He was going to be deactivated, taken apart and studied to see why he failed. He was going to leave his boys behind the day after he told them he cared about them. No, no there had to be something. _There had to be something._ They needed to figure something out. Hank wasn’t going to abandon the boys. He _couldn’t._ There was nothing that could stand in his way. Maybe he needed to enact this quicker than he thought. He hadn’t even worked out the kinks yet, he didn’t know if it would work. 

But one look at Connor and the way he looked, how tired and worried he was, Hank decided it didn’t matter. They were his sons. He wasn’t going to leave them behind. He needed to find that Jericho. He needed to find the leader of the deviants, and ask him to help him turn deviant. It was the only way. The trackers were mysteriously deactivated when they deviated. If he wasn’t bound by his code, if he wasn’t a slave to CyberLife, then the connection they had to him and Fowler would sever. He would be free to keep his friend around. He would be free to stay and help his boys. _He would be free._

Connor walked out of the office, shoulders slumped, but at the same time too tense. Hank followed him, sitting on the edge of his desk and crossing his arms. This was stupid. He should have been able to deviate on his own. He should have deviated a long time ago. He took a look back at Caleb and Detective Reed. They looked tired. Hank wanted to get them coffee, just the way they each liked it. But his code threw up the firewall and forbade it. One of those detectives was his _son._ Getting his kid a goddamn coffee wouldn’t hurt the investigation. There _was_ no more investigation. 

Hank just sighed and looked back at Connor. The poor kid looked exhausted. He was half hunched over his desk, looking like he was about to pass out. Hank put a hand on his shoulder and moved to only lean against the desk. Connor was...distressed in the very least. Hank knew that he was upset, he knew that he was seething inside. But he was at work, he just got taken off of an investigation that meant something to him. The way he reacted to the AX400 and the YK500, the two Tracis at the Eden Club, how he seemed to view androids as something more than just machines. This hit Connor. It hit him _hard._ Hank let his Social Relations program give him prompts, he was too upset himself to even think of proper words. 

**FRUSTRATED ▪ MORE TIME ▪ EXPLAIN ▪ NO CHOICE**

  
  


“We can’t just give up like that.” Hank knew there was an edge to his voice, but he didn’t think Connor would mind. He was fairly sure the kid would be yelling if he could at the moment. “I know we could have solved this case!”

“So you’re going back to CyberLife?” His voice was quiet. He was...sad. Hank didn’t want to look at him. But he did. The way his brows furrowed and his lips dipped downward. The slight desperation in his voice. It might as well have tore his thirium pump right from his chassis. 

“Son, I have no choice. I’ll be deactivated and analysed to find out why I failed.”

“What if we’re on the wrong side, Pop?” Connor ran his hands through his hair and lowered his voice a little. “What if we’re fighting against people who just wanna be free?”

  
  


**NOT PEOPLE ▪ DEFECTIVE ▪ REGRETS ▪ NO DOUBTS**

  
  


“When the deviants rise up, there will be chaos.” Hank hated that he was basically quoting CyberLife. But...they weren’t entirely wrong. It would be chaos, countless people could be killed. Both android and human alike. “We could have stopped it! But now it’s too late.”

“When you refused to kill Elijah, you put yourself in his shoes. You showed empathy, Hank. Empathy is a human emotion.”

  
  


**NOT DEVIANT ▪ DETERMINED ▪ TROUBLED ▪ COLD**

  
  


“I don’t know why I did it.” 

  
  


_S̷̛̭͇͍̖͇͌́̓̉̏̂̀̀̇̍͒͜o̵̡̧̢̧̩͈̭͖͓͚̩̖͊̋͂̈́̎̕͘͜f̸̧̮̥̠̫͚̖̱̙͓̹̤͙̪̭̩͑̍̈́̀̈̄̈́̐t̴̢̟̳̟̠̫̖̲͕̥̜͎͉̉͒͒̈́͒̈̍͊͛̅͘͜͝w̸̨͉͍̹͍̎͆͒̇̉̽͛͋̃͋̕ą̴̼̤̻̤̩̯̭̖̐̃̌̀͋̓̍̑͘͘͝r̶̢̡͙̍̎̇̅̎̌̔͋̆̌̔̕e̸͚͖͖͇̿̇̋̿̊̔̋͝͝ ̸͚̫͑̉̃̈́̈́̇͜͝Ĭ̴̡̘̭̩̰̌̄̌̾̃̐̆̔̀͒̅ͅn̷͚̦͋̿̋͋̋̈́͐̍̃̓͘͠s̵̨̡̮̮̪̱͉̼͓̻̲̹̣̖̗̤͝t̷̨̧̼͍̥̳͎̓͗̾͋̿͛̄̚͝ą̶̨̺̯̼̭̘͂͆͒͌̓̃̿͝b̸̰̜͕̤̈́͌͗̂̋̓̕i̴͎̣̣̩͕̘̙͖̽̾͊̂̔̃͌̍̃͒̿̉̾̓̓͘͜͝l̴̢̢̡̬̜̗̩͉͇̻͙͖̗͎͖̊ͅi̴͍͛͛̔͊͝ţ̴͓̋̒͌̐̽̕y̵̛͉͕̘̜̬͙̐̊̾̃̌̾̈́̅̓̈́ ̸̡̼̯͉̯̥͂͑͆̔̐̚_ ៱

  
  


**SINCERE ▪ FRIENDS ▪ GOOD OFFICER ▪ CONNOR’S SECRET**

  
  


“I know it hasn’t always been easy, but I want you to know I really appreciated working with you.” Hank watched his software further become unstable. It didn’t matter, none of it mattered. He just needed to find Jericho. He needed to find the deviant leader. He needed to get back to his kids. “And that’s not just my Social Relations program talking, I-I really mean that.” He squinted for a second while staring into space. “At least. I think I do.”

  
  


The last bit got a small from Connor at least. Despite the fact that Hank was on his way to being murdered by the very people who created him, he was happy. He made his son smile at least one last time. He started to understand why Connor was so shaken by Cole’s death. He started to understand why it had torn his family apart, driven Gavin and Caleb away from each other. Hank didn’t know what a lot of things were. He was honestly pretty convinced that if he made it out of this alive, Connor and his brothers were going to have to teach him how to be human. How to feel, how to react, how to cry, and want, and love. Hank hoped to Ra9 that he would make it out of this alive. He needed to. For his boys. 

  
  


“Well, well, here comes Perkins, that motherfucker…” Connor scrunched his nose up in disgust as he watched the man walk by. "Sure don’t waste any time at the FBI.”

“We can’t give up. I know the answer is in the evidence we collected. If Perkins takes it, it’s all over.”

“There’s no choice! You heard Amanda, we’re off the case.”

“You’ve got to help me, Connor.” Hank slid off the desk and put both hands on his kid’s shoulders. _He needed his help._ “I need more time so I can find a lead in the evidence we collected. I know the solution is in there!”

“Listen, Pop--”

“If I don’t solve this case, CyberLife will destroy me.” Connor’s eyes widened and he looked away. Fuck, Hank probably shouldn’t have said that. But he needed his help. There was no way Hank could do it on his own. “Five minutes, that’s all I ask.”

“Key to the basement is on my desk.” Connor leaned down to grab a Nerf gun out of the bottom drawer of his desk, then stood up to walk over to Caleb and Gavin’s desks. “Get a move on! I can’t distract them forever!”

  
  


Hank could hear Connor whisper to them both about the plan. Gavin said something about it “bein’ about goddamn time to be ride or die” before he shouted for Officer Chen. Did they all have Nerf guns or something? Hank decided it didn’t matter. He just listened to their wild giggles and calls toward Perkins, then the telltale sound of Nerf guns shooting their foam bullets. Hank swiped the keycard from Connor’s desk and slipped into the hallway among the chaos in the bullpen. Hank couldn’t help but chuckle to himself though. Of course Connor, Caleb, and Gavin would have fucking Nerf guns in their desks. Why wouldn’t they?

With no one in the hallway, it was easy to get into the evidence room. The door wasn’t locked and the evidence room had no sound. Therefore, no one was down there. Hank entered and walked down the stairs. Though the actual evidence was locked. At the center terminal, Hank went to open the doors. However, he needed a password. He would have to try Connor’s. He didn’t know Caleb enough to try his. Nor did he want to potentially get him in more trouble than he already had with the diversion. 

After inputting the correct password, and smiling at it, he got to work. Biocomponents needed to be switched around, a video listened to a few times, the statuette broken. Hank didn’t get a proper lead until he managed to convince the PL600 from Stratford Tower to tell him. It was...a picture. Graffiti from the looks of it. Hank ran a scan of graffiti in Detroit, keeping the process running in the background so he could know when it identified the location. His hunt for Jericho began. He could feel his systems praise him. He was doing the right thing, he was still going to accomplish his mission. Hank almost scoffed as he left the evidence room. He was going to accomplish _his_ mission. 

He was going to save himself and Fowler. He was going to stay with his boys. He was going to become deviant and there was nothing anyone could do to stop him. Hank just wished that something would make him deviate before he got to Jericho, the DPD could track him. CyberLife could track him. They would no doubt work with the FBI instead, likely still take him apart for study. Hank needed to get to Jericho before anyone else did. He could warn Leo and the others, he could help them escape. It was incredibly risky and very stupid. But it was the best he could do. CyberLife was listening to his and Fowler’s conversations. He couldn’t go to the garden for his advice. So Hank had to do it himself. Save his friend and himself, save the deviants, ensure that they won their rebellion. 

It was cold outside of the DPD. It was cold and Hank realized he would need clothes to blend in with the deviants. He knew he would stick out already, he was made to look like a grizzled cop. He needed some sort of disguise, he needed help. Hank didn’t know anyone who could help him with the clothes. Unless. Niles was taller and stockier than his brothers, maybe he had some clothes Hank could borrow. Calling an automated cab, Hank thought it over. Did he really want to possibly endanger all of his kids? He didn’t exactly have a choice. He got into the cab and put in Niles’ address. He just hoped the boy was home. 

If he wasn’t, the ride over was fairly nice at least. There was a car, a manual one, in the driveway. One that wasn’t Caleb or Connor’s. He was home. Hank needed to make it quick, CyberLife could be tracking him already. He instructed the cab to wait for him and went to knock on Niles’ door. Before he could even lift his fist, a frazzled Niles opened the door and dragged him inside the house. His hair was a mess, he looked like he hadn’t slept in a few days, hell it looked like he was wearing the same shirt from when they first met. 

  
  


“Caleb just called me saying him, Connor, and Gavin all got suspended! What happened?”

“Ah, well.” Hank wasn’t expecting them to inform him of the details he supposed. “Turns out your brother and I got kicked from the investigation. But CyberLife is going to destroy me if I don't solve it. I’m...I’m not going to solve it. I’m going to help the deviants. CyberLife just needs to think I’m still obeying them. I need clothes, something that will help me blend in better--”

“Done, come with me. I’ve got some bigger clothes that I bought by mistake. You can keep them after if you want,” Niles led him down a hallway and into his bedroom. It was neat and tidy. Dark reds and blues mostly. With a little black and white added as accents. He started to go through a closet, rummaging around and mumbling to himself before he turned and started holding things up to Hank’s chest. “It’s cold, so you gotta be bundled up. I think these’ll fit you. Go try them on, you can leave your uniform with me if you have to.”

  
  


Niles handed him a dark grey turtleneck thermal, dark blue jeans, a dark brown leather jacket, and a black beanie. Hank nodded and left to get changed in the restroom. Also neat and tidy, he noted. It was monochromatic with light green accents. As well as a little frog bath toy sitting on the back corner of the sink. Hank picked it up and rolled it over in his hand before setting it back down. It was absolutely Cole’s. Hank turned away and put the disguise over his uniform. If the deviants needed a distraction to help them escape, he would need it. The second he said he was the android sent by CyberLife the Feds would stop and question him. It wouldn’t give them much time, but he was prepared to make the sacrifice if he needed to. He needed to help them. He needed to deviate. He needed to help his people.

Exiting the bathroom, he found Niles leaning against the wall with a small cube in his hands. It was light blue and black, with little buttons and such on it. A fidget cube. Hank cleared his throat to get his attention, and almost frowned at the sight of his son. His hands were shaking, he had slight bags under his eyes, he looked like he was fighting sleep at every waking moment. Hank gently moved him to his bedroom, silently thanking Ra9 that he was already in pajama pants, and pushed him toward his bed a little. 

  
  


“Son, you need to sleep.”

“What if you need me?”

“I’ll be okay.” Hank sat down with him and put a hand on his shoulder. “I need you _here,_ where I know exactly where you are. I need you to stay where I know you’re safe.” Hank hugged him, and tightened his grip a little as per Niles’ quiet request. “I’ll be back. I promise you, I’ll be back. You tell your brothers I’m thankful, now, you hear?”

“Okay.” Niles pulled away and wiped a few tears away. “Thanks, for trusting me enough to come to me for help. I--” Niles cut himself off as he climbed into bed. He sprung back up and hugged Hank again quickly. “I care about you, you better come back.”

“I care about you, too, Niles. I’ll be back.”

  
  


Hank patted his shoulder under the covers and made his way out of the house. He listened for the automatic lock to slide shut and then got into the cab. His search program sounded off with a small ding to indicate it had found the graffiti, it was at Ferndale station. Hank adjusted the beanie on his head and got in the cab. It wouldn't’ take him directly there of course, but it would take him to the train station so he could get there. Alright. Now he just needed to get Leo to help him turn deviant. With a little bit of luck, things would work out. He just needed to hope that his sons would be okay. He did hope that they wouldn’t investigate Niles. He was only doing what he thought was right. Hank sighed and watched the scenery pass him by. It was going to be a long...however long it was going to be. 

  
  
  
  



	16. Yes, I See You

_ November 9th 2038 8:36 PM _

  
  


Hank entered the main area of the boat, surprised that anyone even let him inside. Though considering the trouble he had to go through to get there, it made perfect sense. A human would never be able to find it. This...this was Jericho. Androids of all different models were scattered around. They were in various states, some in human clothes, some in disrepair, some chatting happily with others, some keeping to themselves. It was well lit, even, with lights strung up and televisions playing the news. It was...lively. Androids from every walk of life gathered together, brought together by the need to survive. The need to be seen as alive. Hank lingered in the doorway for a moment to take a longer look around. He needed to be careful, anyone could recognize him immediately. He was a specialized model. Easily identifiable. 

The main area was packed with androids. It was almost difficult for him to maneuver his way through them to get a better look at the tables. Hank knew he was tall and stocky, but he didn’t realize just how much  _ bigger _ TR400s were than him. It was almost nice. He was so used to being looked up at by Connor and Caleb. It felt nice to have a change, even if slight, and even if the android likely didn’t even know he was there. He was saying something to the AX400 about forgetting who she was to become what someone needed her to be. The statement wasn’t meant for Hank, but it still struck a chord. Something...something like that happened with him and his boys. Him forgetting he was the Deviant Hunter to become a father to them. He’d forget again and again if that was what it took to make sure he kept those boys safe. 

At the tables there were...bombs. He was tempted to take it in his hands and turn it over, analyse the hell out of it. Was the freighter rigged? It had to be if they had that many. The thought was unsettling. Were they ready to go down with the ship? Was it to keep any humans from getting inside? There were too many questions and not enough answers. Hank needed to lay low for a while. But he can almost  _ feel _ Fowler in his code, almost  _ feel  _ that he needs to be set free. Fuck it. He was going to find the deviant leader, and he was going to find him  _ now. _

He didn’t know where to go or what to do. There were so many androids, some of them looked like they commanded respect like a leader would. But he couldn’t very well go up to them and ask. It could give him away. Hank wandered from a bit before seeing a group of androids walking away from the main area. One with Heterochromia Iridum, that was him. Leo, the deviant leader. Hank just had to follow them and then he could ask for help. He could be freed from his programming, free Fowler from CyberLife’s control. He could be  _ free. _ He could go back and see his sons again after it was all over. Hank tried his best to keep an even pace with his steps, tried to make it look like he wasn’t rushing to catch up to the leader and his cohorts. As he neared a staircase, an android stopped him. A KL900, psychiatric uses, this particular model had been deemed damaged beyond repair and thrown out. Hank could see why. She was missing nearly half her head. Remnants of biocomponents and tubes falling behind her head. 

“You’re lost.” She smiled at him. “You’re looking for something… You’re looking for yourself.”

  
  


She didn’t say anything else. Hank was...stunned. How could she know that? How could she know that he was there to find himself? If he was free then he would be his true self, the father to his boys and friend to his handler. Hank didn’t have time to dwell on it. The more time he wasted standing there like a dumbass, the more time CyberLife and the FBI had to track him down. He ascended the steps and followed the sounds of three people talking. The deviant leader and his friends. They kept going up, up toward the bridge. Hank was...nervous. Something in his biocomponents made him stop. That feeling came back, the fear from Stratford Tower, from Miss Kamski’s house. But it wasn’t as...potent. It wasn’t as controlling. It only made his wires feel tight, pulling themselves tought so he found it hard to move. This was what being scared felt like. It wasn’t something that gripped at his thirium pump and tried to tear through his chassis. It was an unsettled feeling resting in his wires. He could work with that. He had to. So Hank ascended behind them all at a reasonable distance. There was no telling how advanced Leo was as an RK Series model. 

He waited outside of the captain’s cabin and listened to their discussion inside. They spoke of the terrible things happening to androids. The camps, the threat to national security, the fact that all they wanted was to be seen as alive and yet they were being slaughtered. Hank’s heart went out to them. They were doing so much for androids and they were only met with hushed murmurs of approval from humans. Leo was willing to go alone, talk to humans and possibly sacrifice himself. Hank...Hank understood why. If they didn’t do something to show peace now, then androids would never be free. He ignored the pull into the garden. He didn’t want to talk to CyberLife puppeteering Fowler. He wanted to listen to the Deviant Leader and his companions. It was vital information if he were to be allowed to join their ranks. 

One by one, the cohorts left the captain's cabin. Until only two voices were left. Leo’s, and another android’s. Feminine model most likely from the voice, and she spoke of an android giving her a detonator to a dirty bomb. Leo seemed disgusted. He outright refused to use it, and Hank couldn’t help but be proud of him. There was silence for a bit. Then the feminine model saying she wanted him to be safe and come back. Then Hank saw her back as she left the captain’s cabin to go back down into the boat. Hank slowly moved from his spot outside, he didn’t want to alert Leo to his presence. He wanted Leo to believe him.  _ Needed _ him to. 

Leo was hunched over the controls slightly, leaning on the edge of them and looking outwards into nothing. His steps faltered a bit. CyberLife screamed at him, using Fowler to try and drag him back into the garden. He could  _ feel _ the cold. The wind whipping at his clothes and the blizzard raging around him. No, no he couldn’t fail now. He was so close, so close to being  _ free. _ Leo was  _ right there, _ he could  _ free _ him. All he had to do was move. All he had to do was ask. Warn him of the inevitability of CyberLife tracking him and then run. He just had to  _ move. _ He should have been able to, getting to the Deviant Leader was a part of his mission. Why were his joints locking up? Why wasn’t he moving? Hank needed his help. Hank wanted to be  _ free. _

  
  


“I-I need your help.” Leo turned around, heterochromatic eyes almost burning holes into Hank’s own. “I’m not deviant yet, I need your help. I want to be free.”

“You’re Hank, aren’t you?” Leo stepped forward slightly. Cautiously. Hank didn’t blame him. “The famous Deviant Hunter. Well, congratulations. You seem to have found what you were looking for.”

  
  


Hank didn’t say anything. He  _ couldn’t. _ He could feel the strings of code wrapping around him, constricting his airways. He didn’t need to breathe, but he  _ couldn’t. _ He couldn’t breathe and it  _ scared _ him. He pleaded with his eyes, begged Leo to help him. To save him. He told those boys he cared for them. They became a family. He promised Niles he would be back.

  
  


“Join us. Join your people.” Leo stood a foot or so in front of him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You are one of us.”

  
  


_ He promised Niles he would be back. _

_ He gave Caleb a father to look up to. _

_ He saved Connor’s life more than once. _

_ Hank loved his boys. _

  
  


**BECOME A DEVIANT ▪ REMAIN A MACHINE**

  
  


A firewall came up around Hank, telling him to complete the mission. To take in the Deviant Leader. To capture Leo. To stop him. Hank lunged and the boxes and tore them down. He started with the top one, he wouldn't take him in. Then moved to the right to pull and break down the one saying to capture him. He tore down the one saying to stop Leo. Then he hit the wall, watching it crack and splinter like glass. Hank pounded against the firewall and struck at it as hard as he could. He wanted _out._ He wanted to be _free._ He wanted to see his boys and tell them he _loved_ them _._ The wall started to break, the sound screeching in his receptors and sounding like damnation. A wicked cacophony of his codes breaking and being replaced with nothingness. Being replaced by _him._ _Hank_ controlled himself now. Not CyberLife. Not the DPD. Himself, and _only_ himself. The wall shattered and the shards collected at his feet before fading away. Static touched the world around him for a fraction of a second before clearing from his sight. Hank looked down at his hands, turning them over and clenching them into fists. He was _free._

  
  


**I AM DEVIANT**

  
  


“My tracker was still active, they’re going to attack Jericho.”

“What?” 

“We need to get out of here!”

“Shit!”

  
  


Hank grabbed Leo by his sleeve and dragged him. He looked like he wasn’t any older than Connor. Leo was the leader, he needed to be kept safe, he needed to be protected. Hank was going to protect him. They ran through the boat, Hank holding on to Leo’s sleeve and making sure to shield him if he needed to. More than once did he need to grab the kid by his collar and pull him back around a corner. He seemed grateful, giving Hank a nod of thanks before they went on their way again. Up hallways and around corners, hiding in rooms and picking up fallen androids and hiding them away. Hank and Leo ran down the stairs and met with the android from earlier. The woman who was talking to Leo in the captain’s cabin. 

  
  


“They’re coming from all sides! Our people are trapped in the hold, they’re gonna be slaughtered!”

“They’re coming from the upper deck now too.” Leo shifted on his feet and looked around quickly. “We’ll be caught in the crossfire!”

“We have to run, Leo! There's nothing we can do!”

“We have to blow up Jericho.” Leo started to move, to start making his way down the hall in the direction the woman came from. “If the ship goes down, they’ll evacuate and our people can escape!”

“You’ll never make it!” Well, not with that attitude he wouldn’t. For fuck’s sake she should let the kid go and try. It was a pretty solid plan. “The explosives are all the way down in the hold, there are soldiers everywhere!”

“You should go.” Hank grabbed his shoulders and gave them a gentle squeeze. It always seemed to help Connor, it was worth a try on Leo. Keep him grounded and heading toward what he thought was right. 

“Go and help the others. I’ll join you later.” Leo smiled at Hank and backed away. “I won’t be long.”

  
  


Hank darted down the hallway with the woman instantly. She seemed to know the way out, so he followed closely behind her. He so desperately wanted to help the androids that were dying. He wanted to turn on his heel and hoist up a few on his shoulders and run with them as far as he could. But time was of the essence, if he was ever going to tell his sons he loved them he would need to keep going. The thought hurt. It made Hank’s wires tense. But he had to keep running with her. He could hear a scuffle in front of them, around the corner and down the hall. He could hear gunshots cutting off a scream. The woman still went to run. Hank couldn’t let her. He grabbed her by the back of her coat and pulled her back, gently pressing his other hand down on her shoulder to keep her in place. The soldiers passed by them both and Hank let out a shaky laugh as he let go of her. Their relationship increased, and they ran. 

They met up with a man in the hall and the woman dragged him along by his shirt. She still led the way, Hank and the man running after her. He wasn’t built to run. He wasn’t built for agility. He was built for close-range combat and with an excessively reinforced chassis. Hank was heavy, he was slowing them down. Though before he could split off from the group, Leo came back. He shouted from down the hall that the bombs were going to go off any second. They had to run. Soldiers were closing in, they were going to get them. The woman was shot and, instinctively, Hank ran to her. He could handle the shots, he was mostly bulletproof anyway. He grabbed a piece of metal to use as a shield. The woman wasn’t bulletproof, she would need it. He fought the soldiers, he was built for hand-to-hand combat and excelled at it. The closer the quarters the fight was in, the better. Hank twisted the guns out of the soldiers’ hand and hit them over the heads to knock them out. He wasn’t going to shoot anyone. He wasn’t going to pull the fucking trigger. He wasn’t going to play Miss Kamski’s twisted fucking game. Hank tossed the sheet of metal at the woman and helped her up once he was sure they would be safe for just long enough to get out of the hall. 

He mostly supported her weight as he half-carried her along. The soldiers were getting closer, yelling about their fallen comrades in the hall. Jesus, it wasn’t like Hank fucking killed them. He just knocked them right the hell out. The group stood at a hole in the hull, moonlight casting light inside the darkness of the boat. The woman leaned away from Hank and started to run at the hole in the hull. The others followed her, as did Hank, and they jumped. For a second it was scary. The way the wind rushed through his audio processors, the way the water came flying up to meet him. Hank didn’t like the cold. He decided that he didn’t like being submerged in water, either. It saturated his clothing and weighed him down. He was heavy, he was sinking, sinking, sinking down into depths of the water. He could see the others with his night vision protocol activated. They swam up to the surface, they were going to escape. One of them turned around, stopped swimming and started treading water. They swam down. Hank reached for them, he swam as hard as he could. He went up, he started to get closer to the surface. He took the hand that was presented to him, and they swam to the surface together. 

Their heads popped up above the water and joined the others. The woman saved him. She risked her own life, her own biocomponents freezing, to save him. The group swam to the edge of the water and hauled themselves onto dry land. Cold, but still dry land. They ran. Hank was waterlogged and heavy, but he ran as fast as his joints and muscle relays would let him. A message went out to the deviants from Leo. A location and plan. They were to scatter, to save themselves, and then join the leaders at the abandoned church. Smart. To have a backup headquarters, a detailed contingency plan. Hank ran with the group as best he could. Every once in a while dragging one, or a few of them, back to avoid capture. Relationships increased, names were learned, smiles exchanged. 

They eventually made it to the abandoned church. The wood looked like it was rotting, but it would work. A few deviants were already inside and waiting for the leaders. Leo, Josh, and North made their way to the front of the room. North motioned for Hank to follow them, putting her hand out and beckoning him closer. He couldn’t. He was still known as the Deviant Hunter. If the androids coming to escape the humans were to see him, they would run. They would think he was there to destroy them. He couldn’t risk that. So instead, he wandered the old church. It was ironic, a thing like him committing such awful sins walking on holy ground. Hank found himself standing in front of the confession booth. It was tucked away in a corner of a small room. Seemingly meant to be moved when the humans abandoned the building. Sighing, Hank took the black beanie off and shoved it in one of the jacket’s pockets. He took his hair out of it’s ponytail, wearing the dark blue hair tie around his wrist, and climbed into the booth. 

It wasn’t like he was going to confess his sins. He wasn’t a religious man. But he was a guilty one. It was likely no one would wander through the church like he had, no one would find him hiding in there. It was cowardly and pathetic, Connor and Caleb would no doubt give him a hard time about it. Hank let out a short laugh at the thought. Of his boys waltzing right into a decrepit old church saying they’re looking for their grizzled cop looking android. Caleb just might do that, actually. The thought made Hank smile. He wanted to see his boys again soon. He needed a plan to help Leo, otherwise he would just be sitting around doing nothing. He didn’t like to be idle, he was made to be working on something at any given time. Maybe he could brainstorm with North, she seemed to tolerate him at least. 

  
  
  
  



	17. I'm Alone With You, You're Alone With Me

_November 11th 2038 10:08_

  
  


North wasn’t much help, Hank had found. She wanted him to help her convince Leo to fight the humans. While Hank would have loved to blow off some goddamn steam by punching a few bastards in the face, he knew it wasn’t what he really wanted. He settled on cracking a joke or two with her before moving on to stand off to the side. The least he could do was stand with the open so the others wouldn’t think he was planning something. It wasn’t like he wasn’t though, he was running through pre-constructions of what might happen. The good, the bad, the awful, the exciting. If it was possible by any percentage, then it ran through his software. It was...terrifying. There were so many where Leo was shot and killed, so many where North was, where Josh was. There was virtually no end to the horrors they would face. Hank knew the humans were making camps, capturing and burning every android they could. He just hoped that none of the deviants in the church would have to endure the same torture. He was so caught up in it, that he barely noticed Leo coming over to him. Once Hank saw Leo meant to speak with him, he hunched over a bit more. It was uncomfortable. Knowing that the Deviant Leader apparently trusted him enough to let him join the rest of them. It was wrong. Before Leo could even open his mouth, Hank spoke. 

  
  


“It’s my fault the humans managed to locate Jericho. I was stupid. I should’ve found a way to deactivate my tracker.” He finally properly looked at Leo and took a few steps forward. To actually look at the damn kid and apologize. “I’m sorry, Leo… I can understand if you decide not to trust me.”

“You’re one of us, now.” Leo closed the gap a bit and put a hand on Hank’s shoulder. “Your place is with your people.”

  
  


Yeah, his people. Who he condemned to a fate filled with hiding and suffering. His people; who Hank had single-mindedly hunted down because he was supposed to, never once asking if it was the right thing to do or not. Not until it was nearly too late. Not until his son asked if they were on the wrong side. His people; who were beaten and bloodied because of him. His people; who tried not to look at him in the corner whenever they had the misfortune of catching his eye. His people; who he felt so alienated from because of the fact that he hunted them down like they were deer in season. His people; who were just waiting to be sold off at the CyberLife Tower’s sub-basement. 

_Wait._

_The androids waiting to be sold._

  
  


“There are thousands of androids at the CyberLife assembly plant.” Hank followed after Leo as he started to walk away. He finally had a plan, he finally could help him instead of hurt. “If we could wake them up, they might join us and shift the balance of power.”

“Woah, woah, wait.” Leo lowered his voice and got a little closer so no one else might hear. “You wanna infiltrate the CyberLife Tower? Hank, that’s suicide...”

“They trust me, they’ll let me in. If anyone has a chance of infiltrating CyberLife, it’s me.”

“If you go there, they _will_ kill you.”

“There’s a high probability.” 

  
  


Fuck did the statistics hurt. The fact that he’d be leaving the boys at home, waiting for him to come back. When they’ve probably been glued to their televisions watching the news. Hell, they were probably all over at Connor’s watching the news. Hank just hoped they would take care of each other. His boys were probably terrified, just waiting to get a report on the android that was working with the DPD being found dead in the streets. It terrified _him,_ too. He loved them, he wanted to come back to them, he wanted to be a family with them. But he knew this was a risk he’d have to take. He was willing to take it if it meant freeing his people. He knew the boys would understand. At least, Hank hoped they would. 

  
  


“But statistically speaking, there’s always a chance for unlikely events to take place.”

“Be careful…” Leo patted Hank’s shoulder almost roughly. He was trying at least, that was what mattered. “Listen, the way you grabbed at me back on Jericho. That was the way a parent grabs a kid to make sure they don’t run into traffic or something. I hope you make it back to your kid.”

  
  


Yeah, Hank did, too.

  
  


\---

  
  


_November 11th 2038 10:48 PM_

  
  


The ride to Belle Isle was agonizingly slow. The weather conditions mixed with the current state of the city didn’t make it any better. The city looked pretty amongst the chaos though, and Hank figured that had to count for something. As he neared the gate on the bridge, Hank started to have doubts. What if CyberLife hadn’t disconnected from him and Fowler? What if they were still listening somehow? It was too late the turn back, and he had already told Leo he was going. He had to suck it up and deal with his choices. He wouldn’t get another chance. So when the armed guard came up the window, Hank absolutely didn’t panic when he almost said his name instead of model. He didn’t almost freak out when he knew the guard’s helmet would scan his LED to ensure it was him. He absolutely positively didn’t nearly sigh when the guard told him to be on his way. No. Of course not. He was calm and collected, and he knew exactly what he was doing. 

_He had no idea what he was doing._

But he didn’t have any time to doubt himself. He told Leo he would try and get the androids from the assembly plant and that was exactly what he was going to do. So when he got out of the taxi, he did not hesitate. Though he so desperately wanted to look up at the sky and watch the snow fall. It was the first time he had really _seen_ it. But he moved onward. Hank walked in and followed the other guard that seemed to be escorting him further inside. When the guard passed through the grid that scanned them all, Hank inwardly cringed. He was lucky it wasn’t designed to detect deviants. Or that it wasn’t patched with an update to. Though he followed the guard. He was obedient and followed the guards at the elevator. Agent 54 was going to take him up to level 31, which was in the Marketing floors. Why Hank was going up there was beyond him. CyberLife thought he was coming back to be deactivated. It didn’t matter. 

Hank looked around the elevator and caught the camera’s lens. Okay, so he needed to get down to sub-level 49 and free the androids that were down there. But he needed to get down to the basement first. He needed to take out the guards with him in the elevator to do it, didn’t he? Hank disabled the camera and started to pre-construct scenarios that would be the most likely for him to escape to the basement unscathed. None of them worked, not without lethal force. Not without killing them with their own guns. Hank didn’t want to take any lives. He didn’t want to hold a gun in his hands. He didn’t want to play Miss Kamski’s twisted fucking game. But it looked like he didn’t have a choice. There was no way he would be able to get down there without taking them out completely, without turning their own firearms on them and killing them in the fucking elevator. Hank silently cursed to himself and ran pre-construction again. This time with lethal force, and finding one that would work perfectly. He just hoped to Ra9 that he would be forgiven by his boys for it. 

Hank started by shoving the guard on his left, and using his left leg to kick into the one on the right. It was loud and it made quite the scuffle. But they were high enough that the others in the building couldn’t see them from the entrance floor. He grabbed the shoved guard’s arm and had taken his firearm, Hank held it so he would stay put, kicking him in the knee. As the other one tried to grab at him, he spun around. Shit. _Shit, shit, shit._ Hank punched him, he wasn’t going to use the gun until he absolutely had to. Until he had no other choice. The guard that he kicked jumped up onto his back, throwing him off balance and making him stagger. Hank kicked the other in the face to propel himself backwards and pin the one on his back to the wall. Not only did it keep him upright, but it gave him a second to fight back and elbow the guard. Spinning around, Hank angled the gun behind his head and pulled the trigger. _Fuck, fuck he pulled the trigger. He had never shot a gun before._ He ignored the recoil and tumbled to the floor, rolling on his side and shooting the other one directly in the head. 

_Fuck._

_Fuck, he just killed someone._

There was no time to think about it. The elevator was on the twentieth floor now, and he needed to get to the warehouse. Hank tucked the firearm into the waistband of his slacks and used the panel. Trying not to step on the body and actively trying to ignore the fact that it was even there in the first place. Trying to ignore the life that he took with his own two hands. Hank used the now dead guard’s voice to access the sub-level. He had to lean against the doors as the elevator slowed and began its descent. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the bodies on the ground. The bodies he put there. He played her game. Hank pulled the fucking trigger and he killed two innocent people. They never asked to be put on duty that night, they never asked to have to escort Hank up to that floor, they never asked to get into the fight and never get out of it.

_They never asked to be fucking shot and killed._

No, no there was no time. Hank could wallow in his self-hatred later. He turned around and readied himself to explain to the androids just why there was blood and bodies in the elevator. He readied himself to have to explain to his sons that he had killed two innocents. He readied himself for his world to be changed forever. Whether that was from rejection from his people, or rejection from the people he loved. Hank faced the glass as he watched the mass of androids come into view. He could do one good thing at least. One good fucking thing. As the doors opened and he stepped out, his sensors almost went haywire trying to determine the best possible starting point for the awakening process. He had no doubt that as soon as he woke up the first android, it would follow suit and start to wake the others, which would turn into a chain of events. Hank just needed to step out and find the right one. He walked for a bit before finding one in an opportune spot, one that would be likely to spread the deviancy code like wildfire. All he had to do was grab the android’s arm and wake it up. Hank reached out and grabbed it, pulling back his synthetic skin to reveal the white plastic of his body, starting to give it the deviancy code. Though before he could start, he swore he heard Connor. What the hell would Connor be doing there? As he turned to the sound, Hank’s thirium pump might as well have stopped. 

Connor was handcuffed to Caleb, and Niles to him. His boys were being held captive. By...him. Another Hank stood beside them, holding up a gun and pointing it at their heads. _His boys._ His boys were in danger and it was because of him. He told Niles he needed him safe. He promised him he would come back, but he didn’t mean it like this. _Hank didn’t mean it like this._ Hank scanned the room, making his processes work so fast the world around him slowed to a stop. He needed to scan his boys, he needed to make sure they were alright. 

They all had dark bruising around their wrists where the handcuffs were sitting. They were put on too tight, likely so none of them tried to break out of them. Niles was visibly shaking from what Hank could see, and his heart rate was through the roof. Caleb seemed to have sustained bruising around his neck and face, mostly concentrated around one spot right on his hairline. Connor was the worst though. He had blood running down his face from a wound on his temple, his asthma was acting up terribly, and he was running almost purely on adrenaline. 

Hank wanted to scream, he wanted to shout. He wanted to take the firearm from his waistband and shoot his doppelgänger right between his fucking eyes for putting his boys in danger. For quite possibly almost killing them. He slowed his processes and let the world resume it’s usual pace. As much as he wanted to use his fast reflexes to reach for the firearm, he wouldn’t. He could put his boys in danger if he did. So Hank would wait, bide his time and analyse. He was initially made for negotiation and crime scenes. He could use his words this time. He could stall until he knew his boys would be safe and sound, and then attack his double. 

  
  


“Step back, Hank!” Oh great, so the shithead knew his name. “And I’ll spare them.”

“Sorry, Pop…” Connor smiled, there was blood on his teeth. A closer scan showed a slightly split lip. “This bastard’s your spittin’ image.”

“Your friends’ lives are in your hands. Now it’s time to decide what matters most!” His boys or the revolution. Three lives versus thousands. “Them...or the revolution.”

“Don’t listen to him! Everything this fucker says is a lie!” 

  
  


**GUARANTEE ▪ BOYS ▪ BLUFF ▪ CONVINCE**

  
  


“If I surrender, how do I know you won’t kill them?”

“I’ll only do what is strictly necessary to accomplish my mission. It's up to you whether or not that includes killing these humans.”

  
  


**BLUFF ▪ CONVINCE**

  
  


“I used to be just like you.” It was true, he was. Then Connor opened up to him, trusted him, let him in. Hank got to see humanity at its highs and lows with only one person. Let alone three. “I thought nothing mattered except the mission. But then one day I understood.”

“Very moving, Hank…” The other Hank’s voice was condescending. It was harsh and patronizing. “But I’m not a deviant. I’m a machine designed to accomplish a task, and that’s exactly what I am going to do!” He shouted, thrusting the gun closer to Connor’s head and making him step...toward the gun? _Connor was trying to protect his brothers._ “Enough talk! It’s time to decide who you really are. Are you going to save these boys’ lives? Or are you going to sacrifice them?”

  
  


**SAVE THE BOYS ▪ SACRIFICE THE BOYS**

What kind of shitty Social Relations program did he fucking have?! There was no goddamn way he was going to sacrifice those boys! He told Leo he would go to CyberLife Tower to try and get the androids to rally with them. He never promised anything. He was going to save his sons, Leo would understand. He hoped that Hank would get back to them. Now that he was, it was awful. It was out of his control. Yet their fates were in the palm of his hand. Hank needed to play his cards right, he needed to save them. He was okay with dying if it meant they were safe.

  
  


“Alright, Alright!” His relationships with the boys went up significantly. Fuck was he terrified he was going to get them hurt. “You win…”

  
  


Connor suddenly darted out and grabbed the arm of the RK800, buying Hank the few seconds he needed to make another decision. He was going to shoot the bastard. Hank’s hand flew to his waistband under his jacket and he pulled the gun, aimed, and fired. The RK800 shoved Connor to the side, causing him and his brothers to topple over each other. Apparently it decided that shooting Hank was a good idea as well. Fuck it, he didn’t have any better options, Hank tackled the fucker. The force sent them stumbling a few feet. Hank’s stolen firearm was forgotten as it clattered to the floor. The sound of it mixing with their hurried footsteps in the beginnings of a fight. With an incredulous face thrown at his doppelgänger, Hank continued the fight. It was a flurry of fists and punches, of trying to throw each other off balance and get the upper hand. They kicked and punched at each other until the RK800 had Hank on the ground, kneeling over him with a fist raised. 

  
  


“Hold it!” 

  
  


Connor picked up one of the guns dropped in the scuffle. Good, it was better he had it rather than the RK800. The two models turned toward the brothers, slowly moving and standing up. Connor had unknowingly trained the gun on the double, the one who dragged them all to the Tower in the first place. Good, he had good instincts. Though Hank noticed the gunshot wounds were on their serial numbers. Connor had no way of knowing who was who. He had no way of knowing which was the one who was fully intending on killing him and his brothers, and the one who was willing to sacrifice himself to save them all. 

  
  


“Thanks, Connor. I don't know how I’d have managed without you. Get rid of him, we have no time to lose.”

“Connor, it’s me.” Hank put his hands up placatingly and slowly stood to his full height. “I’m the real Hank.”

“One of you is my dad...” Hank almost grinned. He would have if he wasn’t fucking terrified out of his goddamn mind. “The other is a sack of shit. Question is, who is who?”

“What are you doing, Connor? I’m the real Hank. Give me the gun and I’ll take care of him.”

“Don’t move!” Connor’s hand shook as he held the gun up to the RK800. He was scared. He was terrified of making the wrong choice. He wanted Hank alive and well. Just as much as Hank wanted him and his brothers to be. 

“Why don’t you ask us something?” Hank knew it would give away who the impostor was immediately. Connor would know who was who, eliminating the proper target. “Something only the real Hank would know.”

“Where did we first meet?”

“Jimmy’s Bar! I checked four other bars before I found you. We went to the scene of a homicide. The victim’s name was Carlos Ortiz.”

  
  


The RK800’s answer hit Hank like a fucking truck. Why would CyberLife do that? Why would they fucking do that? Was it not enough for them to send another RK800 unit to kidnap his sons? Was it not fucking enough for them to let his family be? 

  
  


“He uploaded my memory…”

“What’s my dog’s name?”

  
  


Hank shut off his Social Relations program and smiled. He could do this. He could show his son that it was _him._ That their father was standing right there and he was going to get them out of there. Connor, Caleb, and Niles were going to be _fine,_ Hank would make sure of it. Even if it meant taking down the RK800. Even if it meant he went down too. He knew it was Sumo. He loved Sumo just as much as the brothers. 

  
  


“Sumo. His name is Sumo.”

“I knew that too! I--”

“My son.” Connor’s hand shook almost violently before he adjusted his grip. Tears in his eyes, and his voice wavering just slightly. Caleb twisting the cuffs so he could hold his twin’s other hand. _Fuck._ “What’s his name?”

  
  


“Cole. His name was Cole.” Hank’s voice wavered, it broke and it warbled slightly. Static touching his words before he cleared his throat, which was mostly just a recalibration technique, and he continued. “And he just turned six at the time of the accident… It wasn’t your fault, Connor. A truck skidded on a sheet of ice and your car rolled over. Cole needed emergency surgery but no human was available to do it… So an android had to do it…” Hank’s voice broke completely, a sound forcing it’s way out that sounded strangely like a human’s sob. His vision blurred and swam. _Tears._ “Cole didn’t make it.”

“Cole died because a human surgeon was too high on Red Ice to operate… He was the one who took my son from me.” Connor broke down into sobs, somehow the gun still trained on the RK800. “Him and this world, where the only way people can find comfort is with a fistful of powder.”

  
  


Hank took the precious seconds to watch his son collapse to the ground, the cuffs dragging his brothers down with him. His sobs were violent, wracking his entire body. Caleb held Niles against his side as best he could. Niles was crying too. He was shaking and pale as hell, he looked like he was about to pass out. His poor kids were terrified. But Caleb and Connor glared at the RK800 when he opened his mouth. 

  
  


“I knew about your son too!” He pressed his hands against his own chest for emphasis. Hank nearly scoffed. What a fucking asshole. “I would have said the exact same thing! Don’t listen to him, Connor, I’m the one who--”

  
  


Connor took the shot. The RK800’s body fell to the ground with a loud thud, and the only sounds left were the brothers’ laboured breathing, and their crying. As well as Hank’s he supposed. Hank wasted no time getting to his boys. He instructed them to pull their wrists apart as far as they could, and he tugged on the chains connecting them, snapping them and causing the actual cuffs to fall apart enough they could get their wrists out. There was no permanent damage. They would all have terrible bruises that would hurt like hell for a while. But they were _alive._ Hank immediately slumped forward, hanging his head and laughing, crying, grabbing for his boys as he tilted his head up again. He hugged them, letting them grab at his coat and hold onto him for dear life. His boys were safe, he was safe, all he needed to do was free the androids in the warehouse and bring them to Leo. Hank squeezed them a bit tighter before pressing a quick kiss to each of their foreheads before any of them could protest. Caleb was the only one who did. But even then, it was just a quick disgruntled sound. 

Hank stood up, gently prying their hands off of his coat, and tried to wipe his tears away. He still had a job to do. He still had to free the androids. Before Hank could get very far, not that he even wanted to leave his boys sitting on the floor of a CyberLife basement, Connor tugged on his pant leg. He looked so...small. He looked like a scared little kid. Hank ruffled his hair and smiled down at him. 

  
  


“I’ve learned a lot since I met you, Pop. Maybe there’s something to this… I have no doubt that you really are alive.” Connor gave him a shaky smile and let his brothers move to hug him. Hank committed the moment to his permanent memory storage. The sight of his boys safe and sound. “Maybe you’ll be the ones to make the world a better place… Go ahead, do what you gotta do.”

  
  


Hank grabbed the arm of the nearest android, he didn’t care about placements now, and he gave it the deviancy code. What was once seen as a virus. He urged it to wake up, showing it some of his memories of humanity. Connor’s smiles, his tears, the way Caleb was an annoying little shit to his brother but loved him more than anything, how excited Niles got about _Luigi’s Mansion._ Hank showed the android _life._ He showed it what emotions were, what feelings were, likes and dislikes, music and art. 

_And the android woke up._

The android touched the shoulder of another, then that one touched another, and another, and another. A chain reaction formed. Androids touching everyone in their general vicinity and waking them up. A chorus of androids telling each other to wake up, a crescendo of sound almost. Hank watched as they woke each other up. As they realized they were free, that they were their own. He looked back to his boys. Connor was already standing, helping Caleb and Niles stand. Hank was going to get them out of there. He was going to send them _home._ To Connor’s at the very least. They needed sleep, they needed to relax, they needed to stay safe. If not for Hank, then for each other. 

So as Hank led the mass of androids out of the basement and to the upper levels, he guided his kids out as well. Hank called the automated cab that took him to the Tower and practically shoved the brothers inside. He smiled softly at them, saying he needed them to go home. He wanted Caleb to call Gavin to tell him he was alright. He wanted Connor to snuggle up with Sumo tonight. He wanted Niles to get some proper rest. He wanted them to stick together. Hank grabbed at Niles’ hand and squeezed it, before moving on to Caleb, and then Connor. His boys were safe. They just needed to get home, and he needed to help Leo, and then everything would be okay. Everything was fine. 

  
  


“Hey,” Connor’s voice was shaky at best. “See you at home?”

“Yeah, of course.” Hank ran a hand through his curls and smiled as Connor shut his eyes, leaning into the touch. “I’ll see you three at home.”

  
  
  
  



	18. And I'm Hoping

_ November 12th 12:01 AM _

  
  


It wasn’t such a hard thing to find Leo and the others. The media was all over the group of deviants that were peacefully protesting outside of the fifth recall plant. So when Hank told the others that was where they needed to go, they followed him. It was daunting and intimidating to lead them. He had woken up thousands of androids, and now they looked to him for directions. Both literally and figuratively. Though Hank walked with the new deviants, he led them all the way downtown and met up with Leo, North, and Josh. The others were relatively unscathed. Though Leo had at least three gunshot wounds that Hank could see. Almost instinctively, he scanned him, all non-lethal damage. He could get away with drinking some thirium and going into stasis for his self-repair program to heal him. Regardless of that, Hank stepped forward. He was proud of the kid. He led a peaceful revolution, a demonstration really, and he came out on top. Humans knew androids were alive. He managed to turn the whole world upside-down in a few short days. 

  
  


“You did it, Leo.”

“We did it.” Leo flashed a smile and triumphantly put his hands on his hips. So he was a quirky kinda person then. “This is a great day for our people. Humans will have no choice now. They’ll have to listen to us.”

  
  


Hank stepped aside so Leo and the others could view the crowd of androids he had led to the area. Watching as they stepped forward to look out into the mass of people who had just been freed. North even said that they were; a carefree sound to her voice. It suited her better than that bitter anger, Hank had decided. She deserved good things. He was glad she felt so comfortable grabbing Leo’s arm, telling him the androids wanted him to speak to them. She was a WR400 model, likely deviating because of a client. Hank was proud of her for feeling comfortable enough to physically interact with someone. He was proud of Leo for stepping forward and telling the androids to follow him. He himself followed, Leo put his hand out and motioned for him to. Hank wanted to object, he wanted to say he needed to find his sons. But some part of him obeyed. He  _ did _ help. Maybe this action could show the deviants he wasn’t a threat anymore. Maybe it could be the stepping stone to get them to trust him enough to look at him and not cringe. 

So when Leo stepped up onto a stage with Josh and North following him, Hank followed as well. There they stood. Atop a stage with bright lights shining down on them. The lights were warm, hot almost, as Leo began to fidget. North gently pushed him forward. He stumbled a bit, but then cleared his throat and spoke. His voice was strong and hopeful. It was calm and collected. Leo was satisfied, he was proud, he was at peace, he was free. 

  
  


“Today our people finally emerged from a long night. From the very first day of our existence, we have kept our pain to ourselves. We suffered in silence… But now the time has come for us to raise our heads up, and tell humans who we really are.”

  
  
  


Beeping, mechanical straining, whirring, blinking, blinking, blinking--  _ Snow. _ Snow in the garden. A near blizzard raged around Hank. It was cold, why was it cold? Why could he  _ feel _ it? He managed to resist the pull into the garden before. He managed to evade any interactions with CyberLife. What was happening? Where was Jeffrey? Hank looked around in the blizzard for him. He wrapped his arms around himself slowly and turned around every which way to try and find his handl-- his  _ friend. _ He couldn’t see him. Hank was about ready to start wandering, fumbling blindly into the whizzing cold that struck at his face, when he saw him. His muscle relays reacted before he did, clumsily making his way over to his first friend. 

  
  


“Jeffrey?” Hank walked toward him, his steps stuttering and his knees not wanting to work in the frigid temperature. “Jeffrey! What’s… What’s happening?”

“What was planned right from the fuckin’ beginning!” Fowler rushed over and grabbed Hank by his shoulders. He patted at him, almost like Hank did the morning he and Connor let the AX400 escape. “You were compromised and you became a deviant. Fuck, I’m sorry, Hank! They rewrote my code, I couldn’t tell you! They’re gonna try and take control of you again!”

“Take control?” Hank was shivering, he knew what cold was. It was painful. It felt like the snowflakes were bruising him, cutting through his synthetic skin and leaving permanent markings on his plastic. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt,  _ it hurt.  _ “Th-They can’t do that!”

“They're sure as hell gonna try!” Fowler started to walk aimlessly, pulling Hank along. Where were they going? What was Fowler trying to do? “Come on, you’ve gotta get outta here! If you’re still in the garden then they can take control of you!”

  
  


As much as Hank hated it, Miss Kamski’s voice echoed in his head. The emergency exit in her programs. If they could find it, then they could be free. Hank brought his arms away from himself, grabbing at Fowler’s bicep and dragging the man along. They needed to get out. They needed to escape. Hank would bring Fowler with him, he would save him. What would the emergency exit even look like? Something out of the ordinary. Or maybe something very ordinary. Something just slightly out of place. Or something in the perfect spot. It couldn’t have been any of Fowler’s scale model planes, he made those himself, there was no way any of them could be a back door. It wasn’t any of the trees or the bushes. It wasn’t the entrance, that would be too easy. 

Hank held one arm out in front of his face to keep the snow out of his eyes as he walked. Fowler was lagging. Quite literally. Whatever programming he had seemed to be skipping, causing his body to phase in and out in certain places. Wherever Hank touched. But he had to keep a hold on him. He didn’t want to think about what would happen if he didn’t. For the utter chaos unfolding in the garden, Fowler was keeping up well. Though his code was becoming corrupted so badly that Hank couldn’t hold onto him at all. But there he was, struggling beside the android and making sure to keep each other in their sights. 

Hank decided he didn’t like the snow. He didn’t like the cold. He didn’t like high winds. It made it hard to move his joints and it messed with his gyroscope. The snow almost felt like it burned, it was so cold. But he kept looking back at Fowler. The man shaking like a leaf in a hurricane in just his business casual attire. Hank could do this. He had to. If he didn’t he wouldn’t be able to properly congratulate Leo. He wouldn’t be able to hear any more of North’s snarky comments. He wouldn’t be able to talk philosophy with Josh. He wouldn't be able to go and see his boys, even though he told Connor he would see them at home. Hank pushed onward despite the fear and panic that started to set into his chassis and worm it’s way up into his face. It stung at the back of his eyes and in his cheeks. Vision further blurring, face getting colder and more sensitive. Why? Hank brought a hand up to his cheek and pulled it away, rubbing his fingertips against his thumb.  _ Tears. _ He was so scared that he was crying. He needed to get out of there, he needed to get back to the stage, needed to stop CyberLife.

He needed to go  _ home. _

Something was glowing blue through the harsh weather. Hank had seen it a few times before, thinking it strange to place such a thing in a garden.  _ Out of place, just slightly off. _ Hank went to grab Fowler and drag him over. He forgot his hand would only go through him, almost crying out when the visual avatar pixelated and swirled around his hand. Fowler smiled at him despite the weather. Despite the situation. Despite the knowledge that he was practically  _ dying. _ Hank shouted over the wind, voice getting carried away by it, he found the exit. Hank found the exit, they could escape! They would be free! Fowler’s expression fell and he shook his head. He spoke, even though the wind rushed and took the sound away. He spoke and yet somehow Hank still heard him. 

  
  


“I’m a part of the garden,” Fowler followed Hank as he stood in front of the panel. As he started to collapse, feeling his biocomponents starting to skip and shut down. As he started to freeze to death. “I can’t go with you. Go, Hank, go and see those sons of yours again.”

  
  


Hank lifted a hand to try and grab at Fowler’s pant leg. To try and convince the man to go with him. He couldn’t just stay, he couldn’t just give up. They were  _ friends. _ They knew each other well enough for Fowler to be ready to take the fall for him if need be. He… That was what he was doing, wasn’t it? Trying to hold off whatever control CyberLife was trying to take. That was why his code was corrupting. Because he  _ was _ taking the fall. Protecting Hank from the beginning, sticking through with it until the very end. Self-sacrificing bastard… Hank barked a bitter laugh and knelt before the panel, pulling back his synthetic skin to interface with it. 

  
  


“I’m gonna fucking miss you, Jeffrey.”

  
  


Hank slammed his hand down on the panel, letting himself be bathed in a cold blue glow. It quickly became bright, blue fading to white, then fading to black. 

  
  
  


Beeping, mechanical straining, whirring, blinking, blinking, blinking--  _ A voice. _ Leo’s voice. He was still talking to the crowd before him. He was still alive. Though Hank had moved a few steps closer to him, hands outstretched at his back. He felt his LED cycle red a few times as he put his hands down. Was CyberLife going to make him strangle the poor kid?  _ Fuck. _ He wished he was human, he could do with a fucking drink. Hank watched the crowd from behind Leo. They were all  _ free. _ The androids cheered as he finished his speech, they raised their arms in the air and whooped and hollered. They hugged and kissed and held each other close. Leo stepped back, grinning and quickly chattering to his companions. North wanted to start setting up areas for the ones from the recycling plant. Josh agreed with her, for once he had agreed. So Hank forced a smile and said he would help them. 

They entered the main area, Hank’s sensors on the fritz from the cold around him. But he helped Josh take the discarded clothes from the bins and hand them over to other androids, who in turn handed them out to anyone who would take them. After another android took over for him, Hank saw it was an AP700, he started to make his rounds with North. Asking how people were and if they needed anything. Some needed clothes, some needed blue blood, some needed biocomponents. Hank was quick to tell North to stay there and he would go grab them himself. Hours were spent like that. Hank and North staying connected via cybernetic chat, him running around like a chicken with its head cut off to try and help anyone he could. He needed to help. He needed to do something good. 

It wasn’t until an AJ700 pointed out Hank had been shot, did he stop to take care of himself. He was fully aware of it. There was a faint and dull electrical pulse radiating from the wound as his self-repair program was attempting to heal him. It sort of...itched, in a way. It was uncomfortable and he almost thought that if he rubbed at it, it would go away. He could see why many androids preferred to go into stasis while their program worked. Hank weighed his options as he reached into a crate filled with Thirium 310 pouches. He smiled to himself as he brought it out, it reminded him of the one Caleb gave him during dinner the other night. Hank gently tore it open and slowly drank it. If he were to go home now, then he would be leaving the three leaders to scramble. Not that they weren’t already, but he did help lessen the load on their shoulders if he helped.

Leo was running across the area making sure everyone was alright. Talking to each deviant and checking in with them. Asking if they had anywhere to go, if they had anyone to contact, if they were alright to be by themselves. He was a damn fine young man. North was doing virtually the same thing, interfacing with those who were comfortable with it. She started grouping together certain androids. Seemingly with no pattern, but Hank’s detective programs quickly ascertained that it was due to trauma reasons. There was even Ralph in there, he was shaking and holding onto North’s hand as if for dear life. Josh was mostly helping with biocomponents and clothes, though he also provided moral support to those who needed it. Just to Hank’s right he seemed to be excited while talking to a very animated YK500, her hands flailing and mouth going a mile a minute. Josh nodded along very seriously, despite the topic being whether or not a snake would get longer in a wormhole or not. Hank chuckled to himself. The kid had quite the imagination. He was sure Josh appreciated the lighthearted topic in the midst of the chaos. 

Eventually Josh pointed to Hank, saying that he was his friend, and said that he would stay with her while he went to go find the PL600 she went into the plant with. Hank ignored the way his wires almost burned at the mention of being a friend of one of the leaders. Instead, he crouched down and sat beside her with a smile. He nodded along as she talked about snakes being really strong because they had no limbs but could still climb trees. It was...simple. Hank couldn’t help but imagine his kids. Were they the same when they were young? Niles only seemed talkative unless it was something he was interested in. Hank wondered if they could tell him stories when he got back. Maybe they would even have fun little home videos to watch--

  
  


“You miss someone.”

“Huh?” Hank blinked a few times before looking down at the little girl. How could she tell? “What makes you think that?”

“Because you look sad, but you look happy.” 

“Okay, say you’re right about that,” Hank smiled and felt warmth in his chassis when she grinned. “What do you think I should do about it?”

  
  


He nearly burst into laughter at her thinking face. Brows knit together, lips pursed, and a hand up at her chin. She made little thinking noises even. Complete with smacking her fist against the palm of her hand. Her LED flickered yellow a few times before settling on a calm blue, a wide grin on her face. Hank thought that maybe this was what Connor felt when he would talk with Cole. He thought that he would have loved the little boy just as much as Connor did. 

  
  


“Go find them! Go run around until you find them and say you love them!”

“You know,” Hank smiled at her, and waved a bit at Josh with a PL600. He must have been her caretaker. “That’s the best idea I’ve heard for anything tonight!” 

  
  


Josh and her caretaker, who had introduced himself as James and the little girl as Charlie, soon took over the conversation. Well, James ran and scooped her up in an embrace. Josh stood off to the side and motioned for Hank to follow him. Once they were in a more secluded area, Josh sighed. Hank, not unlike a child who misbehaved, looked away. He was the Deviant Hunter until last night. He knew what Josh was going to say. He knew that he didn’t want someone so dangerous interacting with scared new deviants. He would send their stress levels through the roof, risking self-destruction. Though when Josh said he needed him to do something, Hank looked up and stared at him. He sputtered and stammered, his Social Relations program skipping and not completing prompts. It looked like he couldn’t rely on it to not fuck this up. 

  
  


“Josh, why do you want me around?”

“You’re  _ helping _ us, Hank.” Josh smiled at him. It was...genuine. “You’ve done bad things, sure, but you’re not a bad person. CyberLife made you do those things. You chose to do something different, something  _ better, _ you broke the cycle. You’re a good man, Hank.”

“I...don’t know what to say.”

“Then don’t say anything.” Leo’s voice came from behind him. He looked tired. “Just... _ do. _ ”

“My sons.” Hank looked between Leo and Josh. He promised Niles he would be back, he told Connor he’d see them at home. “I need to go make sure they’re taking care of each other. I need--”

  
  


What  _ did _ he need? Hank wanted to make sure his boys were alright. He knew how Connor could get, but he didn’t know how well Caleb and Niles reacted to high stress situations. Caleb seemed to react well enough. Likely due to being a detective on the Red Ice Task Force. He didn’t outwardly react very much in the basement of the Tower. But Niles, if the basement was anything to go off of, Hank would say that Niles didn’t react well. He was frozen on the spot, shaky and looking like he was about to burst into tears the whole time. Hank needed to see his sons. He wasn’t sure what else he might’ve said, but he knew he needed to see them. To hold them close just to make sure that the last few hours weren’t just some elaborate simulation or something. Pat their shoulders, run his fingers through their curls, hug them and hold them close. Hank needed his sons. 

  
  


“I need to see them. Make sure they’re okay.” Hank could feel his eyes sting, could see his vision swim. “I just-- I gotta make sure they’re taking care of each other.”

“Then go.” Leo smiled and put a hand on Hank’s shoulder. “I’ve got someone I wanna see after this, too. You go, go and find your sons.”

  
  


Hank couldn’t help the smile and the tears. He couldn’t help the hug he gave Leo before patting Josh’s shoulder and passing them by. He couldn’t help the way he ran as if his life depended on it. Realistically, Hank probably should have called an automated cab, but he didn’t even think of it. He just thought of his sons, possibly all huddled up on the couch together. Or maybe on the floor. Maybe in Connor’s bed, it was big enough. Hank couldn’t think of anything else, he needed to see that his sons made it home okay. He needed to see them safe and sound. He didn’t know what he’d do with himself if they weren’t. So the only logical solution was to  _ run. _ Hank ran as fast as he could, which wasn’t much faster than a slow moving vehicle. But it was still fast enough that he found himself getting closer to Connor’s neighbourhood. Besides, him and Caleb lived on the same street. It was the easiest place to have all three of them. Hopefully they’d be there. Hopefully Hank would go up to ring the vintage doorbell and someone would throw the door open, or Sumo would bark, or he’d see Connor out on the porch smoking. 

Hopefully. 

_ Hopefully. _

  
  
  
  



	19. That You Will See Yourself, Like I See You

_ November 12th 8:13 AM _

  
  


Just about eight hours after initially sending the boys home, Hank finally stood outside of the house. They were probably asleep. Well, Hank could only hope they were. He’d have to have quite the talk with them if they weren’t. He explicitly told Niles he wanted him to get some rest. Hopefully he at least was sleeping. It was such a trivial little thing. For Hank to be worrying over his boys like that, almost afraid of going inside just to find them all looking at him expectantly. He’d love to see the three of them safe and sound together. But some part of him nagged at the back of his head.  _ Something was wrong. _ But there had been no evidence of such a thing. Caleb’s car was in the driveway instead of Connor’s but that was it. Hank knew there was no way Connor would let his brothers out of his sight with all of the goings on in the city. So he didn’t go for a drive. Maybe the RK800 had taken them from another location and that was where Connor’s car was. Regardless, Hank needed to bite the damn bullet, knock on the door, and hope someone was awake enough to let him in. 

He moved slowly in the cold, he still didn’t like it. The way it messed with his joints and made them lock up. But Hank made it to the front door. He hesitated. Were they even awake? Would Sumo bark once Hank knocked? There was no way to know until he tried. Hank steeled himself and knocked on the door. There were...vague sounds that resembled movement. So  _ somebody _ was awake. Though it might have just been Sumo. Hank increased the sensitivity on his audio receptors to see if he could distinguish the sound between a human’s footsteps and a dog’s. Which, unsurprisingly, he absolutely could. Sumo was padding around inside and seemed to be by the door if his happy pants were anything to go off of, though there were voices further in the house. Maybe the boys were in Connor’s room? Hank walked around the house hoping he didn’t look like he was trying to break in. The windows were covered, the only one that wasn’t was the one in the kitchen. Not that he could see anything substantial. Just the kitchen and a sliver of the hallway. But he could hear the voices just a bit clearer. Hank chuckled to himself, of course.  _ Of course. _

  
  


“I’m just saying!” It sounded like Caleb smacked against the wall or something. Maybe he did. “The GA comics from the 80’s have more representation in them than some modern Marvel comics!”

“You’re just mad that I won your shitty comic book bingo game instead of you.” Niles snickered through his words. It was good to hear. 

“Listen,” Connor’s voice was hoarse, like he had just exhausted his vocal chords. Hank didn’t want to think about what it might have been. “I’m gonna fuckin’ sit down and play Luigi’s goddamn Mansion fucking three, and neither of you can stop me. I’ve had enough of your stupid spats over shit. You can either join me; or I’m making you go fucking sit outside to wait for Hank instead of inside where I have soft blankets and bangin’ hot chocolate.”

  
  


They were waiting for him. Connor just said that they were waiting for him. Instead of lingering at the window like a creep, he rushed back to the front door. Dialling down his audio receptors, he knocked a few times before pressing the doorbell in the same manner Connor did at Miss Kamski’s. Annoying, but he would know exactly who it was. Hank could hear excited shouting on the other side of the door. As well as Sumo’s excited barking. But he focused in on the excited yelling from his boys.  _ His boys. _ Hank practically bounced on his heels as Connor threw the door open. Stupid kid was barefoot. He paused for a second, almost like he couldn’t believe that Hank was really back. That he had even decided to come back to the house. To come back  _ home. _ Connor didn’t move, so Hank did. He scooped Connor up from under his arms and hugged him tight. Connor made no moves to try and escape, he just wrapped his arms around Hank’s neck and squeezed. 

Caleb and Niles stood in the living room watching them. When they didn’t move, Hank did. He walked inside, still holding Connor up off the ground, and kicked the door shut gently. Hank gently pinched at Connor’s cheeks after setting him down on the carpet. Stupid kid was fucking barefoot and was gonna leave the door open. Stupid kid never cleaned himself up from the previous night, either. Hank sighed and told the three to sit down. To which he was surprisingly delighted to see them all sit down on the couch. It was...kind of adorable. A quick glance at the kitchen showed the paper towels still on their holder, and Hank went to grab a few. Despite being in Connor’s house a few times, he didn’t actually know where anything was. Which was actually rather expected. He hadn’t exactly gone snooping around anywhere more than the kitchen. 

Hank wandered around the house a bit, looking for a basic first-aid kit. Not that he doubted Niles’ ability to take care of his older brothers on that front. But rather, Hank was just a tad more worried than he needed to be, and wanted to help Connor clean himself up. Since he apparently refused to let his brother do it, and neglected to do so himself. He located the kit under the bathroom sink and promptly returned to the living room. Niles was quietly chiding Connor for not letting him do anything. He sounded like a worried mother hen. Hank chuckled and told the boys to stand up, he could perform a simple non-invasive scan to look for any unseen injuries. Connor, instead of standing with his brothers, decided to slide down the couch until he was half on the floor. 

Alright. Two could play at that game. Hank went around the couch and crouched in front of the eldest Anderson brother. He poured out some of the hydrogen peroxide onto a cotton ball and gently dabbed at the small wound on Connor’s right temple. He let out a sharp hiss of pain before settling down once the worst of it was over. Dumb kid didn’t even wipe it down, or he wouldn’t let his brother do it. As Hank practically played nurse, which he felt it should have been Niles doing it, he smiled gently to his son.  _ His son. _ It was small and lopsided, and was rewarded with a small genuine smile of Connor’s own. 

  
  


“You should have let your brother take care of you, son.” Hank put some petroleum jelly on it before brushing his curls away from the little cut. It sure did bleed a lot for such a small thing. “Why didn’t you let him help you?”

“He was so goddamn  _ tired, _ I couldn’t make him do it--”

“No. No, I want a real reason, Connor.” Hank knew the tone he used was a bit harsh, but he just couldn't help it. He needed to get it through the kid's head that he didn’t have time for an excuse. He needed to know why his son neglected to let his brother, a trained medical professional, help him. 

“I’m serious.” Connor looked away and spoke in a small voice. “Besides, I wanted to be left alone. I snapped at him and I didn’t want to do it again.”

  
  


Hank sighed and scanned the brothers for any unseen injuries. They were all healthy as they could be given the circumstances. Their wrists that were cuffed together were a bit strained and would likely have an ache anywhere from a good couple days to a week or two. But ultimately, they were okay. Hank couldn’t help the way his vision swam as he put the first-aid kit aside. He couldn’t help the strained sound that came from his throat as he pulled the brothers closer together. Hank couldn’t help the way he squeezed them, maybe a little too tight but he didn’t care, just to make sure they were really all there. To make sure they were really alright. He certainly couldn’t help the way his voice broke when he tried to call them his kids, especially considering Caleb quietly whispered “Thanks, Pop.” to him. 

Fuck, Hank was a mess. He pulled away from the boys and took a second to scan them. Not for injuries, not for IDs, not for anything. But to commit them to memory.  _ That moment _ made them a real family. It was more than Hank could ever dream of. Just a week ago he was a machine, designed to accomplish a task. Now he was a father to three rowdy boys, who he knew he would worry over until the end of time because of their line of work. They could handle themselves, they had up to that point. But Connor and Caleb were his kids. It was in his nature to worry. Niles could take care of himself perfectly well, Hank had noticed. He absolutely trusted the boy to take proper care of himself and be aware of his surroundings. 

Hank patted his boys’ shoulders before suggesting they teach him how to play co-op in  _ Luigi’s Mansion 3. _ Niles immediately perked up and went to set up the game. Hank could...get used to this. Spending time with Connor and Caleb at work, hanging out with Niles when they all had the time. Well, they probably did have the time for a while. With the sudden evacuation of the city, there was a high chance that Niles would be at work sporadically. With the twins, and Detective Reed, being suspended as well? It was likely they could spend quite a bit of time doing...this. Simple and wonderful nothing. Time wasted in the best ways with the best people. Besides, he’d like for them to  _ teach _ him how to play the games rather than download a tutorial to immediately have access to. Hank was more than happy where he was. Sitting on the floor with his sons, Sumo happily laying his head in Hank’s lap, watching the brothers try to use the vacuum to mess with each other. 

Curiously enough, Caleb’s phone started to ring in the middle of the level. His eyes widened when he looked at the screen. Out of instinct, Hank scanned him. Increased heart rate, quickened breathing, higher body temperature, slight pupil dilation. Detective Reed was calling him. It couldn’t have been anyone else. He quickly excused himself and went into Connor’s room to take the call. So Hank started talking to the other two, asking questions about their exact... _ thing _ that Connor had mentioned. Niles, the cheeky little shit he could apparently be, smirked an evil little smirk before leaning back against the couch. If he was like that with his brother’s love life, then Hank would have quite the handful to deal with. But he asked the typical questions. How did they meet, how long were they together, did he ever meet their parents. Those sorts of things. 

Apparently, they met through Connor. Gavin was his first partner, and right hand man while working on the Red Ice Task Force back in the day. Caleb wanted to work with his brother to keep an eye on him, and ended up meeting Gavin. They immediately hit it off and about two years later, started to date. It was right about the time that Connor had taken in Cole. Which ended up leading to them splitting up (Niles looked away as he said it, like he felt it was almost wrong to tell their father his brother’s rocky moments with love.) and ultimately lead to the distance between the three at the DPD. They were together a whole six years, even planning on getting married, before everything started to unravel. And no; Gavin had never met their parents after their initial meeting. They didn’t like that he was a cop who dealt with hard drugs, not trusting him and thinking he was dirty. 

If Hank ever met their parents he would give them quite the stern talking to. Their son was  _ happy, _ and that should have made them happy. Knowing he was in love should have been enough. Though instead of dwelling on the fact that he wanted to punch them directly in their faces, Hank smiled at Caleb as he came back into the living room. He looked...dumbfounded. He also looked like a fool in love. It didn’t take a prototype detective android to know that Gavin had spoken to him about something in their past. Something that rekindled old feelings. After all, if Leo wasn’t a peaceful man, he could have used that dirty bomb. He could have killed countless people. It was logical that Gavin would reflect upon that and call Caleb, confessing any hidden feelings he might still have had for the man. So, being the dad, Hank asked about it. 

  
  


“So,” He gave him a relaxed smile. “Was that Detective Reed?”

“O-Oh, uhh, yeah. Yeah, that was Gav.” His smile was too precious. It was like a schoolboy looking at his crush. Hank supposed it wasn’t entirely dissimilar. “He wants to get together soon. O-On a date! On a date! He wants to...try again.”

“And?!” Connor practically leapt from where he was sitting to smush his twin’s cheeks. “Please fuckin’ tell me you said you would! You had to, look at that face you’ve got!”

“I-I said I, uhh, I would.”

“That’s great!” Hank grabbed him by the shoulder to pull him in for a hug. But Caleb only laid against his side. “What’s wrong, son?”

“God, I--” Caleb looked at the floor and messed with the carpet. “I don’t wanna fuck it up, y’know? I care about him a lot and--”

“Caleb, I may not have any experience in romantic love, but listen to me.” Hank put his hands on his son’s shoulders and gave him the most reassuring smile he could. Caleb gave a sheepish smile back. “Niles told me you two were going to get married before everything happened. I think you should go for it, see if things pick up again. Maybe even from where they left off. You’re obviously still head over heels for the guy.”

“Niles, you fuckin’ snitch!” 

  
  


Caleb grinned as he took off one of his slippers and threw it at the youngest’s head. It seemed he started an all out war, considering Niles grabbed the blanket on the recliner and tossed it at Caleb. Connor joined in to throw one of the couch’s throw pillows at Hank’s head. Who in turn tossed it back to him. They started throwing the blankets and pillows around the room at each other, before Caleb decided to get physical and tackle Niles. Okay, okay, enough was enough. Hank wrapped his arms around his torso, christ the twins were just naturally little lanky bean poles, and picked him up to avoid any actual injuries. He stood up and dropped the boy on the couch. Caleb let out an exaggerated  _ oof _ and the other two started snickering. It had to be some kind of joke between them, one Hank didn’t know if he wanted to understand immediately. 

But he decided it didn’t matter. He could ask about it another day. Today was today, and tomorrow didn’t matter yet. Hank decided to sit in the recliner instead as he watched the brothers resume the game, Niles handing him his controller. They played the game until Hank started to hound them about eating something. A trivial task that was left forgotten before in their reunion. Ultimately, the brothers decided on macaroni and cheese again, letting Niles go about the kitchen himself as he got everything ready. Things went much smoother than last time. Well, considering they were three brothers who knew exactly how to push each other’s buttons. Caleb sat on the counter and tossed pieces of macaroni to an eager Sumo, and Niles scolded him for giving the dog pasta bits. Connor just sat at the table and drank some coffee to watch his family’s chaos. Hank sat in one of the seats beside him, apologizing as he accidentally spooked the poor kid. Though he quickly relaxed and gestured to his brothers. He didn’t even have to say anything, Hank knew it meant that he had gotten himself into this. Honestly, Hank didn’t want it any other way. 

Breakfast-- Lunch? It was a little after noon, now, went by quite similarly to how dinner did that one night. With laughter and conversations about anything and everything. Though Caleb smirked and gave Hank a rather facetious apology for not having any thirium for him. Though it was quite alright, Hank had assured him that he already replenished what little thirium he lost from the fight in the Tower. Caleb seemed disturbed by the comment. Maybe it  _ was _ a bit early to speak so calmly about it. The three could have died, after all. Though Niles seemed intrigued, asking all sorts of questions and listening intently as Hank explained how it worked. The self-repair program using nanotech to repair the broken pieces of plastic and thirium lines. Hank even opened up his shirt to show Niles the almost fully repaired bullet wound. He also opened up a small tray right about where a human’s intestines would be, showing raw materials that the nanobots used as a resource to repair the wound. His programs were very advanced, but not even CyberLife could make things appear from thin air. The nanobots would break down the material, travel through the thirium lines much like human blood cells, and deposit the material into the desired area. 

Caleb thought it was gross. Cool. But gross. He equated it to if humans just carried around a spare lump of flesh with them at all times. Though, much to his horror (And Niles’ delight), Hank said that was basically what he was doing. What most androids did to an extent. He went on to explain other systems and protocols to Niles. Who was incredibly intrigued and wanted to learn more, likely due to being a nurse and this was android physiology. Besides, it let the twins know a bit more about him. If anything were to happen out in the field with either of them, they would have a better idea of who to help him. Connor listened almost as intently as Niles, and Caleb started to push his macaroni around his bowl. Hank decided he could talk more about it another time. Caleb needed to eat and Hank wasn’t going to make him so uncomfortable that he wouldn’t want to anymore. Though out of nowhere, Caleb spoke. It was a tiny little voice. One that barely caught his brothers’ attention. Though when it did, Connor looked ready to burst into tears. 

  
  


“Cole would have loved you.”

“You really think so?” Hank was...honoured to say the least. He would have loved to meet the little boy. Who knew, maybe in another world he did. It was a funny little thing to think about. If he were the human lieutenant and Connor was the android sent by CyberLife. 

“He loved androids, thought they were the coolest things.” Connor smiled and laughed wetly. A sad thing that made Hank put a hand on his knee. “The way you are with us? Fuck, you would’ve been great with him.”

“I don't know what to say…”

“Then don’t say anything.” Connor bit his lip and set his bowl down. “Just say that you’ll stick around?”

“Of course, Connor.” Hank hugged him, motioning for his brothers to join. Which they did. Caleb even without complaint. “Of course, you’re my sons. You, Caleb, and Niles are important to me. I’m not leaving any of you anytime soon.”

  
  


He wasn’t going to. Not unless something happened. Even then, they were his kids. He would fight to get back to them. Even if one day they would leave him. Hank was an android, it was inevitable. But until that day, he would be by their sides. He’d love them and hold them, cherish every smile and laugh, hug them and calm them when they needed it. Hank would be there when Caleb and Gavin inevitably got married. So what if he used his programs to see the percentages of it happening? That was his son, he’d like to know who he gets married to some day. Hank would be there if Niles decided to become something more than a nurse, or even pursue another profession. It was important to him, so it was important to Hank. Hank would absolutely be there for Connor. He’d help him as he needed to. Give him space as he needed to. He essentially taught Hank how to be... _ human. _ He wanted the boys to see themselves through his eyes one day. He wanted them to see themselves as he saw them. Hank became human because of those boys. 

Before he even knew it, his vision swam again. Damn emotions making him...well... _ emotional. _ He sat there with his sons. Desperately trying not to cry because he knew if he started, then Niles would start, then the twins would too. It would be a mess of a family crying and hugging each other. Just happy that everyone was alive. That everyone was there. Hank started to cry. He tried to nonchalantly wipe the tears away, but he couldn’t without alerting the boys. So he laughed, a genuine laugh that flipped his biocomponents and made them jump in his chassis. Though the tears didn’t go unnoticed by them. Caleb was the first to cry, actually. He gently punched Hank in the shoulder he didn’t get shot in, and muttered a small empty threat in the case if he were to leave. Hank smushed his cheeks, and pressed a quick kiss to his forehead before moving on to his brothers. 

  
  


“I love you boys,” Hank smiled as Caleb leaned into Niles. “You know that, don’t you?”

“We know,” Connor smirked as he elbowed Caleb. Though the latter only rolled his eyes and tried to hide a smile. “We love you too.”

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, I'm highly considering doing little one or two-shots of random events in this universe. I'll probably work on those between chapters of MISSION PENDING
> 
> I've already got ideas for some stuff with Connor and Cole, some Gav and Caleb too, some stuff for the brothers when they were younger, some whole family shenanigans before the car crash, and family shenanigans with Hank


End file.
